The Best of You
by Sandman Zane
Summary: Sometimes the one you love the most is the one who is meant to break your heart the hardest. StanxWendy
1. Prologue

**Title**: _The Best of You_

**Summary**: "She had that eerie way of making him smile; of lighting his whole face up with a glimmer of hope and longing. She'd make his stomach dance, sending waves of pleasurable nausea through him, and he wouldn't have it any other way."

**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything. Thank the Gods Trey and Matt themselves.

**Author's Note**: So I guess I caved and decided to write a fanfic afterall. I'm trying my hand at a romance because so far all I've done is action. I'd like to broaden my horizons. o.O Anywho, I'm not quite sure where I'm going yet, this chapter is just to get me into the groove of things I suppose. An intro, if you will.

This is **NOT **a slash. Nope. Straight-up straightness in this story, yo. XD Well, _someone _might be a bit bent. ;)

* * *

It was the kind of morning where it seemed like nothing could go wrong. Fountains of light poured through the drawn curtains and illuminated his pale face. He stirred from his sleep, moaning softly as he did so. He opened his eyes slowly, sleep slowly vanishing from the confines of behind his heavy lids. His gaze lingered on the scenery outside of his bedroom window; thick, puffy white clouds rolled lazily through the bright blue sky that matched the boy's eyes. The ground sparkled with the freshly fallen snow that had appeared over night. 

He sat up, throwing the warm covers off his body, his eyes never leaving his window. He could tell that despite the new layer of snow it was already warming up and it wouldn't be so cold today. Finally he broke his gaze from the window and glanced over at his clock. It was only 6:25, and already it was bright outside. He didn't have to wake up until 6:30, but he had fallen into the routine of waking up every morning for school and he didn't need an alarm anymore. However, his mom would always knock on his door as a reminder to get moving.

He shuffled slowly towards his closet, already ready for the school day to be over. It was Friday, and he and his friends were going to hang out after school. He couldn't remember the last time they had done that; high school had a funny way of grabbing onto you and keeping you occupied for quite some time. It was annoying, no doubt about that, but he didn't mind it too much. It was an excuse to see his friends for the short time he got to. Throwing on a blue t-shirt and jeans with a hole in one knee, he ran a hand through his jet black hair and it magically fell into place. With a quick glance in the mirror to make sure he looked alright, he left his room and trudged down the stairs. Despite the fact he always woke up right on time, he was not a morning person.

"Good morning, Stanley," came the cheery greeting from the Marsh boy's mother. "I was just about to come make sure you were awake." They both knew it was a pointless task, but whatever flipped her pancake, right? "Sit down, Stanley, and I'll get you a bowl of Cheerios."

He did as hismother told and slunk heavily into a chair at the table. After a few moments the bowl of cereal was set in front of him. "Thanks, Mom," he croaked. Obviously his vocal chords were still asleep. His mother smiled at him and went into the living room, probably to watch some early talk show or something. Stan slurped his cereal and gazed ahead sleepily. He wondered if his dad had left for work already; he hoped so. He didn't think he wanted to hear another one of his father's 'don't screw up' speeches. However, he finished his breakfast, slipped on his shoes, grabbed his coat and bookbag, and was out the door before he could find out. Of course Stan loved his father, but lately his grades had started to slip and his father wasn't too happy with him.

He reached the bus stop in a matter of minutes, instantly waking up as soon as he saw his friends.

Through the years they hadn't changed much (except for the joyful gifts puberty had to offer them, and even with those, Cartman's voice was still as shrill as ever). Kyle Broflovski was still shorter than everyone, still possessed piercing green eyes, and still had a flaming head of red hair. He had started to grow into it, so it wasn't so afro-like anymore, and because of this he wore his trademark green hat less often. He and Stan had remained strong, if not,became stronger, through the course of their friendship. There was nothing that either of them didn't know about the other. They spent time with each other whenever they could, which often set themselves up to be one of Mr. Eric Cartman's not-so-witty comments. "Seriously, you guys," he'd scoff with that pudgy little smirk of his, "You're setting of my Gaydar and it's giving me a headache. Go geta room so you can bone each other in private."

Cartman was still a fat, vendictive whiner who always knew how to get his way. If he wanted something, he got it, and he'd be damned if some tree-hugging-hippie-whore stood in his way. Unfortunately for South Park, almost _everyone _was a tree-hugging-hippie-whore in Cartman's eyes, and he made sure to let everyone know it. The others often questioned why they stuck around with him; over the years he had set them up in so many traps or publically embarrassed them too many times, and they were starting to get tired of it. But they would soon realize that the small group of boys only had each other to count on. High school was a trying time for a teenager, and they counted on each other and the years of friendship to get them through it. Just Stan, Kyle, Cartman, and Kenny.

Kenny McCormick certainly had become a sight to behold. Like the others, he had adopted the shaggy hairdo, his blonde strands a close imitation of Stan's black ones. He finally stopped hiding his face behind his hood when he realized that chicks dig it. Something about his appearance made girls weak in the knees and hot in the crotch. This was lucky for him because hehad becomea major horn dog. He could twist the most innocent of comments into something wretched and perverted, and didn't mind sharing some of these with others.Kenny had certainly earned himself a reputation, and a fun one at that.

Kyle and Cartman were already at their daily banter, Kenny standing idly by with a smug grin on his face and giving an occasional laugh.

"Shut up, fat ass!"

"Look, Kyle, all I'm saying is that Jews are more likely to be gay than any other species," Cartman retorted with a matter-of-fact expression.

Stan rolled his eyes as he appeared at Kyle's side. "God, Cartman, you're so stupid."

"Hey look," Cartman jeered, "It's fag number two. And look, you're making Kyle all hot and bothered. Don't you see that massive boner that's got 'Stan' written _all _over it?"

Kyle was absolutely appalled by this suggestion. "_What_!"

Stan however was not phased by this at all. He had grown accustomed to Cartman's blows...which had now started to lose any humor or wittyness. "Why are you looking at Kyle's crotch, Cartman?" Cartman faltered, obviously not expecting this type of response, but Kenny spoke up before he even had a chance to think.

"Question is, Stan, why _aren't_ _you _looking at Kyle's crotch?" His eyes danced with laughter as he teased Stan. "You know you wanna see that walrus schlong of his." Stan and Kyle only laughed. They knew he was teasing them...he only made Cartman seem more like a dumbass.

"God, _Kenny_," Cartman wailed, "Stop being so flaringly gay. Besides, Kyle's a _Jew_, he's _circumcized_. There's no way he's the size of a walrus."

"At least I don't have as much lard as a walrus, you fat fuck, " Kyle responded with annoyance.

"Alright ladies, shut up. Here's the bus." Stating the obvious was one of Stan's specialties. The 'ladies' fell into silence as they boarded the bus.

* * *

Stan stared at the clock. He just wanted to get out of this class; Algebra. The minutes seemed to last for hours as he started to feel sick with anticipation. Math was his worse subject, and none of his friends were in his class. Next was lunch, and after that his day would be halfway over. At lunch he could fill his growling stomach while chatting it up with his friends, and maybe, just maybe, catch a glimpse of _her_.

She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and knew that as long as he felt like this (which seemed like it would be forever) she would always be that beautiful. She seemed to haunt his thoughts lately, making everything remind him of her. She had that eerie way of making him smile; of lighting his whole face up with a glimmer of hope and longing. She'd make his stomach dance, sending waves of pleasurable nausea through him, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

She was Wendy Testaburger, and the object of Stan's adoration. And suddenly, Stan didn't feel so hungry anymore.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Okay so that was _really _hard. It really isn't meant to be that good, as I said, it's just helping me get into the groove of things. shrug Trust me, there _will_ be a plot. This was also just me getting the characters introduced. I am well-aware of the cliche-ness of them...but I couldn't resist making Kenny a horndog. It just seems like too much fun. XD And I can tell I will have a lot of fun with him. Uh oh. Oh well, review if you'd like. No need.


	2. All Night Long

**Authors Note:** WOAH DUDE I GOT REVIEWS! HOLY COW PIES! -calms down-

**Special thanks to**: _Sparkus_, _Crow T R0bot_,_ Call Me Blue Streak_,_Amelia, Total Misanthrope, and Lilchicky004._Your reviews made me feel all warm and fuzzy. I know this story will be filled with some cheezy shiznit...but I like cheese. And fluff. Fluffy cheese. O.O Aaaanywho...onto the chapitre! -goes French on all y'alls asses-

**Disclaimer**: I do not claim to own anything...the characters are creations of the amazing Trey Parker and Matt Stone.

* * *

When the bell rang it felt as though he had been released from prison, and in a sense that's exactly what it was. Algebra was a prison that confined you with numbers and formulas and equations instead of metal bars and guards with nightsticks. At least Algebra didn't force you to marry another big, hairy man. When the bell rang, Stan gathered his books and bolted out of the door; never to return. Well, not until Monday, anyways. 

He had let his mind wander again, and instead of thinking about graphing linear equations, he focused on Wendy; on her smile, her eyes, her everything. Stan knew he wasn't in the best position to think about girls during class; his steadily falling grades would remind him of that, and then would remind his father, who, in turn, would remind Stan again. He didn't know what was wrong; it had been years since he and Wendy had been together, and even then it was just a cute childhood crush. Since then he and Wendy had dated others (Wendy a noticeably lot more) but they all ended in the same way...someone cried. Often times it was Stan, and it would be Wendy's ex-beau shedding the tears for the long-lost relationship.

With all this aside, the last couple of weeks (or had it been months?) had sent poor Stan on a trip of confusion and heartache. He had wondered if Wendy ever thought about him, but he would soon decide that she'd probably forgotten all about him. Perhaps it was for the best if she had; maybe she'd forget his little vomiting issue when he was younger. Hell, he wasn't sure if he was completely over that. Stan shook his head quickly, as if shaking his thoughts from his head.

He went to his locker to retrieve books he would need for after lunch, then made his way up to the cafeteria. He took a seat beside Kyle, glancing around nervously. "Dude, Stan, are you okay?" Kyle inquired, a look of genuine concern on his face.

"No, Kyle, he's not okay. He needs you to kiss his peepee to make him feel all better."

"God Cartman, I honestly worry about what goes on in that fat head of yours," Stan sighed.

"Oh _dude_," Kenny remarked, appearing at Cartman's side, his lunch a heck of a lot smaller than his, "I'd pay to see that."

"Well, Kenny, go to their house at night and you won't even have to pay. Who knows, slut-boy, maybe you can get in on that peepee-kissin' action."

"Aw Cartman, _gross_!" Kyle shrieked. Kenny let out a giggle of pure entertainment. He took a bite of his sad excuse for a sandwich and glanced over at Stan, who's attention was focused intently on something more interesting than the crap with Cartman and Kyle. Kenny followed his gaze and his eyes landed on Wendy, sitting with Bebe and the other girls, talking about something...probably boys or when they're going to paint each other's nails, or whatever worthless crap girls never shut up about. Kenny glanced at Stan once more, who's gaze had slowly started to drop to the table. He almost seemed ashamed or nervous. Kenny shook his head and returned to his sandwich and the playful banter between Cartman and Kyle.

* * *

Just one more class and he was home-free for the weekend. He was going to meet up with Kyle at his locker after this, and they were going to hang out in Stan's basement until Kenny and Cartman would show up. Then the rest of the night was unscheduled and they'd do whatever their teenage fancies desired. But Stan didn't want to rush through this particular class. No, not while he got to look at her. 

Stan was in English, his favorite class. This wasn't neccesarily because of the subject itself, but because of who was in his class and the teacher. Mr. Decker was the kind of teacher who would let you get away with anything. You could swear all you wanted to around him, or even at him, because he'd certainly swear in front of you. Oh well, even in _this _class, Stan's grades had started to stumble. But that was almost to be expected, when little Miss Wendy sat almost in front of him. Actually, she sat in front of Kyle, who was indeed directly to Stan's right. Stan had his left cheek propped up in his hand, a bored expression masking the fact that he was enjoying watching Wendy. She was so cute when her nose crinkled in concentration like that.

They were reading _The Odyssey_, something the students probably weren't very indulged in. Wendy, however, was, which worked to Stan's advantage because she wouldn't notice his eyes bearing into her. He couldn't help but wonder who she was with these days. He did see her with Craig a lot. Stan snorted. That buttpipe couldn't possibly care about her. Then again, maybe she wasn't concerned about being cared for? She had earned herself a reputation of being slightly promiscuous, but what teenager wasn't these days? Kenny was a perfect example of it taken to a high level, and Stan wasn't so innocent himself. If he could just show her how he felt, how she melted his heart, then maybe she'd consider a meaningful relationship.

"Stan?"

The familiar voice broke him from his fantasies and longings, leaving his head cloudy and murky. He looked up to meet Kyle's eyes. "Yeah?" he whispered. Mr. Decker threw him a glance as he continued to read from the book. As easy a teacher as he was, he hated to have his oh-so-wonderful story time interrupted. No one cared, and would often hold their own discussions anyway.

The corner's of Kyle's mouth twitched into a proud smile. He had finally managed to stir Stan from his daydreaming. "You're coming to my locker after yours, right?"

"Uh...yeah," Stan said with a 'duh' tone of voice. They had gone over this already, and the Broflovski lad usually had a keen memory. "Then we're going to my house until the fatass and manwhore can get there."

"Alright," Kyle sighed, nodding slowly. "But are you sure you wanna do this tonight? You seem really out of it, dude."

Stan's blue eyes flickered over Wendy's figure for a brief second before returning to Kyle. "I'm fine, dude. Just tired. I'm okay." It was the age-old, cliche response used to divert the attention from the fact you weren't feeling your one hundred per cent. Stan was, however, dead tired, but that wasn't what was causing him to be uneasy; it was the fallen angel in front of his friend. "Don't worry, I'll be better once we get the hell out of here."

"Guys," Mr. Decker spoke sternly, "Save the bedroom chat for later and can it."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Pecker," Stan challenged with a grin. Snickers arose from the class as Mr. Decker tried to quiet them. Much to Stan's pleasure, Wendy was giggling.

"Nice one, Stan," she praised, looking over her shoulder at him.

All his poor vocal chords could muster was a feeble thank you. His stomach churned and moaned silently, perhaps he wasn't quite over his "upset-stomach issue." Sheets of crimson made homage on his cheeks the second she returned her attention on her literature book. _Smooth, Marsh,_ he cursed silently.

Finally the bell rang. "Until Monday," Decker called out over the sound of the students clamboring to their feet, closing his book with a dramatic slam. "See ya in a few," Kyle said as he hurried out the door.

"Bye, Stan!" Wendy said happily. Stan offered her a smile and a wave, but it slowly vanished as he watched her rush towards Craig, throwing her arms around his neck in an embrace. Stan's sturdy shoulders rose and fell witha heavy sigh as he ambled over to his locker.

"That Wendy Testaburger sure is a fine piece of ass."

Stan jumped, the top of his head crashing into the top of his locker. He had been searching for a particular folder in the trash shoved into the bottom of his locker. He became aware of the familiar chuckle coing from the intruder as he stood to his full height, rubbing his battered head.

"Fuck off, Kenny."

Kenny smirked. "I saw you checkin' her out at lunch today, dude. She's pretty damn hot."

_Oh great,_ Stan thought, that familiar pit growing in his stomach, _Kenny knows. This'll end well. _"I wasn't checking her out. I was spacing out and happened to be staring in her direction."

"Naw man, you were checking her out. There's no shame in admitting it. You wanna do her."

"No, Kenny, I don't. Now just shut up."

"You wanna do her _all_ night long."

"Shut _up_."

Kenny started to laugh that high-pitched giggle of his. "I don't blame you, what with those tits of her's and all. Arroooo!" He howled, adding a few pelvic thrusts and twists for effect. Hisblue eyes sparkled with delight as he laughed, almost as if he was crazy. He was just bathing in Stan's torture. Stan pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, his eyes clamping shut.

"Please, Kenny," he begged quietly. "Stop it. I don't wanna 'do' her, and I was not checking her out. I have to go meet Kyle at his locker. What time do you plan on coming over?"

Kenny shrugged simply. He had dropped the subject, for now at least. "Around five thirty or so. I've, uh, got some business to attend to." His trademark smirk played across his features as he mentally planned what was about to unfold before him. "I'll catch ya later, Marsh." And with a wave of his hand, Kenny sauntered off, humming a song to himself. Stan closed his locker and threw his bookbag over his shoulder. It hit his back like a dead weight. He had a general idea what Kenny's 'business' was. Some girl. He pitied whatever tramp had fallen into the clutches of the Horny Kenny. Oh well, it was partly her fault for being so sleazy in the first place.

Stan found Kyle leaning with his back against his locker, head down as if he was deep in thought. By the time he had reached him, the halls had emptied out almost completely. "Hey Kyle," he greeted with a cheery smile.

"Where have you been?" Kyle demanded with a playful tone. He tried to hide his smile but couldn't keep his face straight.

"Oh you know," Stan responded, "Doing drugs, getting laid. I'm a busy man." They shared laughter for a few moments before Kyle suggested that they 'better get their asses moving.' So they did, amblimg peacefully on down the sidewalk in the direction of Stan's house. They talked the whole way, either complaining about what tests they had that day or laughing over some crazy antic someone pulled off. At some point in the conversation they broke into a snowball fight, packing the melting crystals together and throwing them as hard as they could at each other. Their laughs echoed off the sides of the buildings, making it sound even louder than it really was. Finally they reached the Marsh residence, shaking the flakes of snow from their coats. They continued to laugh as they made their way down to the basement, throwing their coats and bookbags on the floor without a second thought.

Stan's basement had been turned into a sort of hang out when he turned thirteen; A raggedy, green couch propped itself against a wall, two bean bag chairs resided on either side of it, and a coffee table stood in front of them. On the other side of the table was a tv equipped witha video game system. The basement wasn't much, but it was just enough for the small group of boys to be able to entertain themselves. Kyle plopped down on the couch, which eeringly accented the green of his eyes. Stan turned on the tv and the game system, grabbed two controllers, and sat next to Kyle.

After an hour or so of fruity music and flashy images on the screen, Cartman's unmistakable stomp reverburated against the walls and off the bottom of the basement steps. "Alright assholes, what are we doing? We better be doing something fun."

"We don't know yet Cartman," responded Stan, "We're waiting for Kenny to get here too so we can all figure something out."

"Well I wanna go to a movie," Cartman chirped annoyingly. He didn't care what the others wanted to do. He never has, so why start now?

"That's probably what we'll end up doing," Stan sighed. It's all they ever ended up doing. When they had started to 'grow up,' the magic of imaginitive games seemed to wear off, and they hadn't gotten into almost any wacky adventures.

"Just don't eat all the candy and popcorn, fat boy," Kyle said slyly.

"Ay!"

* * *

Five-thirty came and went, and Kenny still hadn't graced the boys with his presence. They began to grow irritated; if he didn't show up soon either they couldn't do anything, or he'd miss out, and they wanted it to be a group gathering. Well, Cartman would rather be spending the night alone in his room than with these hippies, but he wasn't going to complain. Much.

When it came to be 6:15, they decided to throw on their coats and shoes and go look for Kenny. Besides, maybe they'll figure out something to do while they were outside, instead of cooping themselves inside. Stan opened the door, only to have a very bruised and bloodied Kenny stumble and fall into his grasp.

**Author's Note**: So here it is..Chapter One. I had no idea where I was going with this until an idea popped into my head. Dun dun duuun...


	3. Punch Drunk Love

**Author's Note**: Haha, Call Me Blue Streak, you're one smart cookie. XD I just got back from _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_...AMAZINGNESS. GO SEE IT. NOW. "You're reallyweird!" -giggle-

**Special Thanks To**: _Crow T R0bot, total misanthrope, Amelia,_ _Call Me Blue Streak, rip t ee,_and _blinky69. _You guys make me laugh. :D

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything, blahblahblah, thank Trey and Matt, etc. etc.

* * *

"_What the hell?"_

Stan's exclamation caused Kenny to flinch and groan. "I just got in a little trouble guys, it's okay. I'm fine now. Seriously."

"Dude, what the hell happened?" Kyle inquired, helping Stan usher him to the living room couch.

"Careful, Marsh," Cartman spoke up, "Don't wanna get white-trash blood on your couch. You never know if his disease will spread."

"Fuck you Cartman," Kyle and Stan chimed in unison. Stan sighed and gently sat Kenny on the couch, leaving to retrieve a warm washcloth. Kenny mimicked his sigh, obviously not wanting to be the cause for concern. He pressed the washcloth Stan had given him against his badly bruised and puffy eye, and then to his bleeding lips. He flinched at every minute touch, but still managed to force a weary smile at the boys.

"Kenny, what the hell happened to you?" Stan asked again, this time more firm and serious. He wasn't going to take any more of Kenny's half-assed answers. Kenny was badly banged up, and he was going to do something about it.

"Well," Kenny stammered, heaving a sigh once more. "I got in a fight. W-with...Craig." He looked up at Stan with the eye that currently wasn't residing behind the washcloth. Stan gave him a look that was unreadable even to Kenny, the master of body-language. Kyle arched a brow.

"Craig?"

Kenny nodded. "Yeah, Craig."

"But why? Craig's a pussy. Why would he beat anyone up?" Kenny suddenly grew a large insterest in the carpet, and began to trace the designs on it with his mind as he decided on what he should tell the others.

* * *

_"I don't want anybody else, when I think about you I touch myself."_

_The song had always been a giggle-starter for the young man in the orange parka. He sang it to himself as he left the girl's house; this one was somewhat of a bore for him. Perhaps he had been with so many girls and seen so many...things...that it took something extraordinary to excite him more than he usually would be. He had finished up with her sooner than he had planned, so he thought he'd stop by the Marsh residence a little early. He'd have to cross by Stark's Pond, which had become the town's make-out spot for the teenagers. They'd get the occasional horny parents and the frequent Mrs. Cartman, but in all the spot belonged to the teens. However, Stark's Pond became Kenny's refuge when it was unoccupied (which was so late at night that the sun would have already started to rise). He'd come over whenever his parents were fighting with each other or whenever he needed to think about what he had become. _

_The pond seemed deserted, which wasn't a surprise since it was only five-fifteen. He stopped briefly at the edge of the pond, gazing at the murky gray water. At times the bleak color of the water reflected his mood; hyper, perverted Kenny wasn't as happy as most would think. How fulfilling of a life would you have if you were so poor your house had more holes than a cheese grater and all you did to occupy your time was to have sex? The wind lashed at his face and he threw his hood over his head, something he did when he started to grow uncomfortable. _

_Suddenly the sound of heavy breathing and the soft smacks and slurps of kissing reached his ears. He turned around to see a couple propped up behind a tree, making out quite feverishly. He smirked, and removed his hood. The thought of finding a good spot to watch the horomone-raging couple was enough to pull him out of his shell. Quietly he tip-toed to a nearby tree, using all of his strength to pull him up onto a low-hanging branch. If it weren't for his gloves, the rouch bark would have scratched his hands.Kenny positioned himself so that he could see the couple without being noticed, and so that he was comfortable. He soon came to realize that the couple was non-other than Craig and Wendy. His blue eyes widened with the initial shock of who the couple actually was, and his thoughts switched over to Stan. He knew Stan was better for Wendy than Craig, but little Miss Fucks-a-lot didn't exactly have her priorities straight. But then again, neither did Kenny._

_This was just too much for Kenny. He hopped from the tree branch, stumbling as he made the awkward landing. He stood up slowly to see if they had noticed, but they were too absorbed in theirSuckfest to hear anything. He grinned toothily, and slowly made his way over to them. _

_He had to admit, what he was witnessing was _extremely_ hot, but the troublemaker in him was willing to give up watching it. He leaned against the opposite side of the tree, hands in his pockets. Craig grunted (either with pleasure or dissappointment; but Kenny assumed the former. Afterall, Wendy has been around and had her share of practice. Kenny mustered a laugh and slowly stepped from behind the tree._

_"Giving the squirrels and birds a little show, are we?"_

_They broke away, glancing up at Kenny with wide, 'oh-no-we-got-caught' eyes. Their expressions quickly changed to glares as Kenny finally let out the laugh he was holding in. "Oh, man, Wendy...So Craig is your flavor of the week? What's he taste like? Pussy?"_

_Wendy's cheeks flushed furiously, as did Craig's. "Screw off, Kenny!" She snapped. _

_"And why on Earth would I do that? I'm having too much fun watching you. You two are seriously hot. Cambell's 'Mm mm good' hot. But y'know, it'd be a little hotter if I could squeeze in between you two."_

_"Go away," Craig said firmly, fists forming by his sides. _

_"Or what?"_

_"Or...or I'll..." He growled with frustration and displayed to Kenny his favorite finger._

_"Oo, double from me, buddy," Kenny responded without a beat, holding up two middle fingers. "You know Wendy, why don't you try dating a real man? One who can show you a good time and isn't such a god-damn fucking pussy? Why not someone like Stan?" The questions were so weird that all Wendy could do was stare at Kenny with a blank expression on her face. _

_"Alright," Craig said angrily, getting to his feet, "You're really starting to piss me off, asshole."_

_"And your girlfriend's really starting to turn me on," he moaned, rubbing his hands on his own chest, making obscene facial expressions. Wendy gasped with anger. _

_"You dick!" She squealed._

_"I'm warning you," Craig stated, anger and adreniline hanging clearly in his voice._

_Kenny snorted with laughter. "You gonna hit me, Craigy-Waigy? You can't fight. Remember in the third grade and we tried to make you fight Tweek? You're a fucking pansy, dude." Unknown to Kenny, when Craig had gotten older he began to work out; and now that Kenny came and interrupted them and his stiffy, Craig was ready to use his new-found muscles on him. _

_"That's it," he growled, charging at Kenny._

_"Oh, shit."_

_Kenny went down like a bag of bricks. The wind was kocked out of him, and it was difficult for him to regain it as Craig continually punched him. Finally, he was able to shove Craig off and fumble to his feet. He glanced over at Wendy, whose eyes were wide with horror, and tried to wink (even though his eye had already started to swell shut). "This is for you, toots," he croaked, sending a feeble punch towards Craig. He ducked and Kenny's hand drove into a tree. "Oh, motherf-"_

_His words were cut off as Craig drove his fist into Kenny's stomach. Kenny keeled over, falling to his knees. He was aware of the warm sensation of blood trickling down his face, but he couldn't pinpoint which wound it was coming from. Craig kicked him in the ribs, causing him to fall over. Kenny cried out as Craig continued to kick him. He regretted the decision to act like a smart ass towards them. _

_"Craig," Wendy spoke softly, "That's enough. Besides, everyone will be here soon."_

_Craig looked at her, nodded, and wiped drool from his mouth. He was panting heavily, and was amazed at the adrenaline rush he received from beating the crap out of Kenny. He took Wendy by the hand and helped her to her feet, and they walked off to wait for the others._

_Kenny laid there for a few moments more before dragging himself to his feet and stumbling all the way to Stan's house._

_

* * *

_

Of course that isn't what Kenny told them; he simply said he saw Craig and Wendy making out, made a few comments that he would normally make, and happened to catch Craig on a bad day. Kyle scowled and had fists hanging at each side, and Stan simply stared at the carpet. He was wondering what comments Kenny made, exactly. Cartman, however, was not so sullen and angry. He had broken into fits of hysterical laughter.

"Jesus Christ," he said through laughs, wiping his eyes of stray tears. "That has to be the greatest thing ever. Kenny got his ass kicked by Craig. What kinda douchebag are you, Kenny?"

"Shut up, dude, he's gotten really strong," Kenny whined defensively.

Cartman continued on. "Looks like you won't be whoring anytime soon. Craig permantly damaged your face."

Kenny offered a sly smile. "That's where you're wrong. He didn't damage the package." He laughed as he grabbed his own crotch.

"I'm gonna kick his ass," Stan said suddenly, looking up as if an amazing revelation hit him. Anger and strength was obvious in those blue eyes of his as he rushed for the door, the others right on his tail. Kenny managed to stagger along, close behind.

* * *

A huge gathering of teenagers had formed at Stark's Pond; an obvious arangement earlier in the school day. Some carried cans of beer, some made out, and some simply talked. Craig broke off from the large group's laughter at the sound of running feet. He looked up, and in the split second before he hit the ground, he gazed into the rage-filled eyes of Stan Marsh. "What the fuck?" he cried as they went rolling. Gasps arose from the crowd as they tumbled and came to a stop, Stan on top and delivering punches. 

"_Stop it_!" Wendy shrieked, breaking from the crowd. Craig rolled over and pinned Stan, punching him in the same eye as Kenny.

Kenny had finally arrived, peering through the people. Pulling up his hood, he smiled weakly and mentally cheered on his comrade.

"C'mon, Stan!" Cartman shouted, "Kick his yellow Asian ass!"

Wendy continued to shout at them, pleading them to stop.

Stan pushed Craig off with ease and got to his feet. Craig did the same and charged at Stan, but he was able to move away in time. Craig turned around and tried again, but simply ran into Stan's fist. "Ow, god _dammit_!" He yowled, clutching his nose. Kyle had joined in on Wendy's pleas, and continued to yell 'stop.'

Just as Stan was about to charge at Craig again, he felt two pairs of hands restraining him. He looked over his shoulder to see Kyle and Butters. "Let me go!" He cried. "Let me go! He hurt Kenny!"

"Well, gee, Stan. I don't think it's such a good idea to let you go," Butters stammered, "Why, y-you could get hurt or something."

Craig grinned underneath his hands and was about to take advantage of Stan's current situation when Clyde and Token took him in their hold. "Jesus Christ, guys, let me go!"

They both fell into silence as Wendy stepped in between them, her face twisted with anger and stained with tears. "Just _STOP IT_!" Her exclamation echoed through the forest and pierced the ears of the bystanders. "You guys are acting like _dicks_! Why the fuck do you have to pummel the shit out of each other?" Her anger was rising, and it was showing through her language. "Why don't you all just grow the fuck up and act mature already?" She glared at Craig, "Instead of acting like a controlling asshole and flicking everyone off all the time, why don't yoube a _man _and talk?" Craig blinked, obviously not expecting a blow towards him.

"And you," she snarled, turning towards Stan, "I wouldn't expect someone like you to stoop this low!" He hung his head in shame as she stormed out of sight. He was well-aware of the many pairs of eyes focused on him and his new black eye.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Not a great ending or chapter, I know, but I'm brain dead. Seems like Call Me Blue Streak was right. XD Kudos.


	4. Tip of the Iceburg

**Author's Note**: Call Me Blue Streak has granted me the power to shoot lasers from my head. XD So...-shoots lasers and fries compuer- Oh...damn.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine...yada yada.

**Warnings: **Possible movie spoilers.Hardly, though. XD

**_Crow T R0bot_**: _Haha, yes, I am a woman, er girl. o.O Whatever you would consider a fifteen-year-old. _

**Special Thanks To: **_Crow T R0bot, total misanthrope, sparkus (welcome back!), Soneka the Hedgehog, Dinky Doodle, Amelia, and, of course, Abby.

* * *

_

Seeing her so upset was one of the most heart-wrenching things he had ever seen, and he vowed to curse himself for it every minute of every day until he was able to patch things up with her.

Stan sat on his living room couch, slumped in such a way that would have given the illusion of just having gone through major surgery. His eyes felt heavy with weariness and anger, and he would doze off every now and then. This was an amazing feat, considering Kyle and Cartman were watching television, Cartman having a comment for everything and Kyle a comment for those comments. Kenny sat quietly in an arm chair, completely lost in the fluffy cushioning. His hood was pulled so tight around his face it was a wonder he could see and breath. The swelling of his eye had gone down a great deal, and he was now able to hold it open. But he was not worried about his petty wounds now; he was worried about Stan.

Ever since they had returned to Stan's house, Stan had thrown himself on the couch and shut everyone out completely. He hadn't received any injuries other than the bruised eye, but the damage done to his ego and emotions was far more severe. Kenny knew this, and blamed himself for it. He had been an asshole to his love interest and current competition; he had led Stan to give said competition a broken nose. And that, perhaps, was not the best thing to do to win over Wendy. Now whatever miniscule chance Stan ever had at making Wendy his had completely diminished, and it seemed the whole situation had put a damper even on their friendship. Kenny let out a raspy sigh for about the thirteenth time in ten minutes. Thewhole idea of 'love' and 'affection' brought about a sort of amazement for the boy in the orange parka. He'd never felt remotely close to love and had never shown any female affection. He simply showed them his long taliwhacker and how to touch them in a way that made them feel good. No, that was not affection. That was horndogging.

A mixture of thoughts fogged up Kenny's mind for the several agonizing hours they were there. He ignored the pounding in his head and the stinging of his abused eye and swollen lip and tried to watch the movie Kyle and Cartman were watching. It was Pet Sematary, a Stephen King classic. Cartman was enthralled and Kyle was terrified yet equally excited. The contrast of the flickering images against the dark room illuminated these emotions written plainly in their eyes. Kenny noted it made Stan seem more ghost-like.

The movie hit eerily close to home with Kenny; it forced him to reminisce on his younger years of dying. A shiver clambered up and down his spine as the thick, unruly accent of Jud Crandell wafted from the television. "Sometimes dead is better." Kenny pulled his hood as tight as it could possibly go.

"Ain't that the truth," he muttered.

* * *

The movie was over at about midnight. Stan was not aware of a silly little thing called time. All he was aware of was his extreme and distasteful bout of self-pity so pathetic even Big Bird would want to smack him out of it. He had begun to snap out of his stupor by the time Cartman and Kyle decided to go. Stan got to his feet, a brief case of dizziness taking hold of him. After a moment or so, he was alright again and ushered them to the door, muttering half-hearted apologies as he did so. Kyle turned and offered his best friend a smile.

"Dude, I don't know why you're so pissed off and upset, but feel better, okay? I'll stop by tomorrow," he said calmly, not knowing what to say or if he should even bother coming over.. "I'll bring the Ben and Jerry's and some Johnny Depp movies and we can act just like horomone-ridden girls," he added with a joking laugh.

Stan nodded, his eyes and face hollow. "Sounds good." Kyle's brows furrowed as he wondered if Stan had even heard him.

"Oh for Christ's sake, Kyle. Stop licking his balls and lets go already!" Cartman received a punch in the arm, releasing his trademark, 'Ay!' Cartman looked at Kyle with eyes of daggers, muttering horrific obscenities under his breath.

Kyle turned towards Stan again, giving him a playful slap on the shoulder. "Careful of that eye, slugger," he advised with a toothy grin. "Put some more ice on it and you'll be winking at the ladies again in no time." Stan nodded and tried to offer the Jew a smile, but all that he accomplished was a simple twitch of the lips. "Seeya later, dude," Kyle said.

"Seeya," responded Stan, closing the door behind them. As he did so, Kenny slowly rose from his chair and appeared at Stan's side. He rubbed his own arm nervously.

"Hey, um, Stan?"

He turned to face the boy hiding behind the hood. Stan could tell Kenny was really upset or nervous about something, and he felt a twang of pity for him. "Yeah?"

Stan wasn't too pissed to talk to him, that was a good sign. Kenny slowly loosened his hood. "I, uh, wanted to thank you."

"For what?"

"You know...for breaking Craig's face since he beat the living shit out of me. I...wasn't expecting that outcome, but thanks for sticking up for me." Kenny fidgeted nervously, his breath growing thinner with each exhale.

Stan dismissed the praise with a wave of his left hand. He turned, not wanting to look at Kenny for some reason.

"I'm so sorry."

Stan looked up, his blue eyes meeting the lighter ones. "Why?" Confusion was written plainly on his face, although he tried to mask it.

Kenny cleared his throat. Didn't Stan understand it was all his fault? He certainly seemed to grasp the severity of the situation. Or maybe he knew perfectly well what Kenny was talking about; maybe he was playing dumb in order to torture Kenny by making him say what he had done. If that was the plan, it was working well. "I totally screwed things up for you, dude."

"What things?" Stan eyed him wearily. By now he knew what Kenny was talking about, but just wanted to hear _his _version of said 'things'.

"Y-you and Wendy...I acted like a jackass, got you all pissed off, and now Wendy's spitting acid out of her vagina at you," he mumbled from behind his hood, hands reaching for the drawstrings to make it tighter. Stan grew uncomfortable again, looking down at his feet and tracing the patterns in the carpet with his toe. Indeed Stan was a little miffed that Kenny pissed them off, but he didn't need to lash out and attack Craig. That made him no better than the asshole who's only comeback was a flick of a finger.

After a few moments of silent pondering, Stan spoke, much to Kenny's bittersweet relief. "You didn't make things worse than they already were. As long as Wendy is with Craig, there's no Stan in the picture. At all. I guess the one who should be freaked out and wiping the sweat off his balls should be Craig. Wendy'll be hanging the threat of dumping him over his head."

"Well, Stan, that's a good thing for you. If she dumps him, she can move on." Kenny returned to his chair, forgetting his plan of leaving right after apologizing. "She has several options. She could, A, get over what you did to Craig and come to you, B, she could be totally pissed and bitchy and hold it against you, returning to some other assrammer, or C, she could turn into the female Kenny McCormick and fuck anything that walks." He had meant for the last option to be a joke, and he found it quite funny. But his smile vanished from behind the confines of his hood as Stan threw him a glare. "And if she chooses the B method, Stan, then you get to say 'Fuck you, bitch. You aren't worth it.'"

Stan's smooth, black hair bounced as he shook his head. "But dude, she _is _worth it."

Kenny's eyes widened, his brows arching. "Really, Stan? Is anyone worth the hours spent brooding and probably crying over what isn't? Is anyone worth what you're doing to yourself? You're a wreck, Stan. We hate seeing you like this." It was true except for Cartman, who quite frankly didn't notice any change in his habit. "Kyle's freakin' out about you. He's knows something's bothering you and he thinks it's him. He thinks you don't like him anymore because you won't tell him what's wrong." Kenny paused, and reflected over how stern he was becoming. But it was something that had deeply upset the redhead, and Kenny cared enough about the two of them to be stern when needed. "Don't lose your life-long childhood friends over some bitch, Stan."

Fists were clamped tightly at Stan's sides, knuckles turning white and small cuts browing in his palms. It was obvious something Kenny said had upset him. Kenny sighed with relief. Maybe now that Stan knew how he was hurting Kyle they could figure something out. "Wendy is _not _a bitch, Kenny."

Once again the blonde found his eyes widening. "What?"

"I said, Wendy is _not_ a bitch."

Kenny gawked, his mouth hanging open and his eyes even wider. "What the hell, dude? Didn't you hear what I just said about Kyle?"

The Marsh boy nodded. "Yeah, and he'll get over it. He always does."

"No he doesn't," Kenny replied curtly, shaking his head. "Everytime one of us does something against him or something he doesn't quite deserve, he remembers it. And it's building up, Stan. Don't let your wanting to shove your dick inside Wendy be the tip of the iceburg."

"Dude, shut up. You're over-reacting."

"Am I, Stan?" Kenny asked knowingly, getting up to his feet and heading for the door. "Or are you just taking everything lightly and being an apathetic little asshole with no real care for those who actually care about you? I'm done trying to get through to you, Stan. It's not even worth it at this point. And you know what? You don't deserve friends like us. Hell, you don't deserve a friend like Cartman."

And Stan was forced to face that grueling reality as the door was slammed shut in his face.

* * *

Monday came, and Kyle hadn't shown up at Stan's. _Kenny better not have told him about our little...argument, _Stan thought bitterly. Having been in a grumpy mood all weekend, he was quick to snap and have a smart-ass reply whenver someone spoke to him. When his parents asked where the black eye came from, he told them he was sitting on his bed at night and bent over to pick up a blanket and banged it on the corner of the nightstand. Being the total nitwits that Sharon and Randy Marsh are, they bought it.

Stan avoided the bus stop at all costs that morning, and instead walked to school. He wasn't sure what Kenny would do if he saw him, or if Kyle was mad at him for some reason. Distancing himself seemed to be the best idea at the moment. He did a good job of avoiding them, he only passed Kenny once and the promiscuous one was too busy hitting on some girl to notice him. For some reason the girls seemed to love his black eye and various bruises and cuts. But it was lunch time now, and he wasn't sure how he was going to avoid them then. He figured he'd have to face them sooner or later, and sooner was probably the best option.

"God dammit," He muttered under his breath, searching for his english book, "Decker's gonna assrape me if I don't find it." He continued to search for it until he felt a hard shove on his shoulder. Stan turned around and stared into the icy eyes of Craig, his nose swollen and disgustingly puffy. Token and Clyde were at either side of him, wearing forced smirks. Stan cursed as Craig shoved him against the lockers, the harsh ridges of cold metal scraping his delicate skin. "What the fuck?"

"You're a god damn assrammer, that's what," Craig spat, glaring at Stan with eyes that could melt a diamond. "You're a no-good pussy and I hate you." Truth was, Craig didn't _hate _Stan, but Craig was an aggressive person, and often mistook his anger for hate.

"The feeling's mutual, then," Stan replied nonchalantly.

"Shut up," Craig growled simply, shoving Stan again. "I should kick your ass, but Wendy will be pissed if I do. Because of you Wendy is threatening to dump me."

"Then why do I see you two swapping spit in the hallways every chance you get?"

They all turned to find Kenny standing behind them, arms folded tightly across his chest. Kyle was at his side wearing a scowl. He was scowling at Stan, however.

He felt that uneasy tugging of his stomach. The unmistakable tug of guilt.

With a glance towards Stan, Craig replied, "Well, the relationship hasn't exactly been _crippled_. But I'm not going to let this buttpipe be the cause of our breakup."

"Well it seems to me that it would be in your best interest to leave him alone," Kyle offered with a raised brow and smug grin. Craig huffed and swore under his breath. Fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, and it was obvious to the others he was holding back a punch or two. Stan took a step up from the locker, watching Craig with a weary eye and clenched fist. He wasn't going to make the first move, but he would defend himself, and probably pummel him, if Craig dared to make a move. Craig turned and slammed him into the locker again, as if he were forcing Stan into some form of submission.

"What do you want, Craig?" Stan asked annoyedly.

"I wanna know why the fuck you came after me!" he shouted, as if it were the most obvious thing. "And what I want more is to beat your fucking brains in right now but I can't do that."

"Well you didn't hesitate to do that to Kenny," Stan pointed out, hands on the arm holding him against the locker. He could easily push Craig off but he wasn't going to let him know that just yet.

"Yes, I did," Craig growled. He wore the 'evil eye,' and wasn't afraid to use it against Stan. "I let that little pillow-biter trash me and when he trashed Wendy that was it." Stan threw Kenny a look of shock and anger, but the other boy was busy staring at the ground. His hood was up. "Kept saying shit like I'm not a man, that Wendy better go find a real man, like _you_." He said the last word with such an air of distaste, any Disney villain would have been proud. Stan continued to stare at Kenny, growing angrier by the second. But now he was starting to piece together what Kenny had done; that was Kenny's own, messed up way of sticking up for Stan, even though he wasn't there and didn't have to see it.

"Well, Kenny's right," Stan dared to say, "I never knew Wendy was lesbian."

Craig's grip loosened, "What?"

A slow smirk stretched across his features. "That's why she's with you, right? You're a pussy?" Kenny and Kyle snickered, and Clyde and Token worked hard to supress their laughter. Rage filled Craig's body, clogging his mind and causing him to forget Wendy's threat. He clenched his fists and threw it towards Stan's face, but he was able to move just in time for the fist to hit the metal locker.

"_Son of a bitch!"_ He screamed, holding his now bloodied fist in his hand, staring Stan down. He charged at him again and got him to the ground, but was unable to give Stan the beating of his life when the unmistakable voice of Wendy screeched, "_Craig!"_

Craig lept up off of Stan with speed, turning to face his angry girlfriend with a look of pure horror. "Wendy! I- I, uh-"

"You _what_? You just went behind my back and beat poor Stan up? I _told _you to leave him alone!" she snapped, her cheeks flushed with rage.

"Hey, babe," Kenny spoke up, "You didn't put a restraining order on me."

"Shut up, Kenny," she said simply, never taking her anger-filled eyes off of Craig. They all though she looked demonic. Suddenly she reached up and slapped Craig across the face, causing his had to turn and his cheek to sting. A small, red handprint had started to form. He just gawked at her, surprised and pissed-off at the same time that'd she do that in front of the other guys. "We're over, Craig," she said hollowly, and stepped passed him to help Stan up.

At the touch of her hand, his heart melted again, and his legs had become so shaky it was hard for him to stand. He accomplished it, however, and started to blush as she checked his face out for injuries and began smoothing his clothes down. "You alright, Stan?"

"Yeah," he said, smiling warmly at her. "All he did was get me to the ground, all the damage was done on Friday." He snickered and glanced at Craig's puffy face. "But it looks like I did more damage to him."

"That's not funny," Wendy said blandly, any trace of friendliness vanishing from her face. She rolled her eyes with disgust and sauntered off to join Bebe.

"That Wendy Testaburger sure is a fine piece of ass."

"Shut up, Kenny," they all chimed.

* * *

Stan was allowed to sit with the group at lunch, but not much talking was done. Cartman wasn't too pleased with this as he was forced to talk to himself. Needless to say, when lunch was over the other three grabbed their things and were out of the cafeteria in a flash. Stan was worried about English; he had both Wendy and Kyle in that class, and to make matters worse they sat right beside him. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to be glad or upset that neither of them said a word to him.

Stan was confused; Kyle and Kenny had commenced giving him the silent treatment, but earlier they were quick to stand up to Craig for him.

_They're probably trying to make some sort of point or something, _he thought, _like showing me what a real friend is. _He grew grim at the thought, tht guilty feeling nagging him and his tortured stomach once more. That was exactly what they were doing, and he was almost a bit relieved at that. They still considered them his friends, and if he was able to act like a decent human being, they could patch things up again.

But what he saw after school was over silenced those thoughts.

Through the massive crowd of teenagers and teachers hurrying on their way to get home, Stan could see Kenny talking to someone with that debonair grin of his. Kenny glanced up and met Stan's gaze, his smile faltering for only a second.

Wendy came into view, and threw her arm across Kenny's back, and with her other hand held his. She rested her head on his shoulder and they walked out of sight.

Stan had never run home so quickly in his life.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Gah, I'm so sorry it took that long to update. . I have been really out of it lately, so I apologize if my chapters aren't up to par. I think this is my longest chapter yet, and I hope to make the other chapters longer as well. I can't say when the next chapter will be up...I don't know how long this 'being out of it-ness' will last, and in a few days I've got a friend coming over for the week. And I'm getting a new puppy that week so I'll be busy taking care of him. shrugs I'll try the best I can. 


	5. Unholy Confessions

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING! -cries-

Author's Note: There's not much to this chapter. Like I said, I'm out of it. But I wanted to get something up before Abby came and there really wasn't much more that I wanted to do for this chapter.

Special thanks to: total misanthrope, Call Me Blue Streak, sparkus, Abby, Amelia, Soneka the Hedgehog, Crow T R0bot, and LilChicky004. Again I say, you guys make me smile:D

* * *

No light was allowed to enter the tomb-like room of Stan Marsh; and why would it be if he felt like he could never smile again? Outside, in the light, was where Wendy and Kenny were. _What's the point of light, _Stan thought bitterly, _If all it reveals is pain?_

The curtains were drawn, acting as a shield against the sun and stray light that happened to pour in. The self-torturing boy was hidden underneath a dark blue blanket, huddled in the fetal position. He felt safe underneath that blanket; nothing could see him and he didn't have to see anyone. Sparky was curled up beside him, his head resting gently on Stan's leg. The dog looked at him with soft brown eyes, as if he understood what he was going through.

Stan knew what he was doing was pathetic; it was just as bad, if not worse, as the first time Wendy dumped him in the fourth grade. But then he had gone goth, and he wasn't sure if that was his plan this time around. He planned on staying cooped up in his room, under his blanket, and allowing good-old Sparky to be his only company. Besides his dramatic misery, that is. Sparky whined and pawed at his master gently, licking his chops and lifting his head. Stan sat up, the blanket falling off of him like a sheet of snow. He pat Sparky on the head reasurringly, and scratched him behind the ear. The dog grinned thankfully and licked Stan's hand. The corner of his mouth curved in a smile as he stared down at the fathful mutt. He remembered when he first got Sparky; he was so proud of himself for finding such a cool dog, but when he started to act 'less macho' than expected, Stan had been a little freaked out. However, with a few lessons from Big Gay Al, Stan learned to accept his dog's sexuality. It was with those lessons that Stan was able to accept a lot of things he had encountered in his life, but of course it wasn't what he needed now.

He stared down at Sparky, as if the friendly face with the rolling tongue held an answer to his situation. Stan straightened the dog's pink bandana and frowned. "What do I do, Sparks?" He asked, scratching Sparky under the chin. "I guess I should ask Kenny about it, or do I wait for him to come to me?" He sighed, laying back down on his pillow. Sparky stood and crept closer to Stan, curling up next to him. He continued to stare at the boy, as if he could give him the answers with his eyes. "And why is Wendy with him, anyways? He was just pissing her off." He snorted, causing the dog to cock his head to one side. "He probably snogged her out of the blue and won her over." He closed his eyes, playing different plans and procedures through his mind. He suddenly felt a rapid thumping against his side and opened his eyes. He had been rubbing Sparky's belly, and the dog had begun to kick his leg with pleasure. Stan smirked and closed his eyes once more. There was something theraputic about petting a dog.

As Stan thought over his situation, a sudden and random image of Kyle flashed before his eyes. "Oh shit," he muttered. He was now well-aware of the fact that he was abusing the poor Jew. He silently cursed himself as the familiar guilty lurch of the stomach returned. If he didn't do something, he would most certainly lose his best friend, but he'd think of something later. Right now he needed another nap, but his room was too tainted with his thoughts and worries. He stood to go downstairs, knocking a pillow off onto the floor. Sparky didn't hesitate to jump off the bed and commence humping it.

* * *

After an hour catnap, Stan had felt a little more sure of himself. He figured he should patch things up with Kyle; if he never ended up with Wendy, he at least wanted to have his best friend there to lean on. And if he did have his chance with the girl, he wanted to have Kyle's support Stan clenched the receiver tightly, his knuckles turning white and his palms growing small puddles of sweat. He wasn't too excited about calling Kyle, but he knew it was something he needed to do. Who knew how long the silent treatment would ensue? His hands and fingers were so shaky it was a surprise he hit the right buttons. There was a stall before the phone rang three or four times and was answered by the she-devil herself, Sheila Broflovski. Stan cringed at the piercing, almost demon-like voice of the bipolar mother. _"Hello?"_

"Hi, Mrs. Broflovski," he said listlessly. He realized he had been holding his breath.

_"Oh Stan, it's so good to hear from you! You haven't been causing havoc around her for a while now. How are you, honey?"_

"I'm, uh, good Mrs. Broflovski. Do you mind if I speak with Kyle?"

_"Sure thing, honey. KYLE!"_

_"Yeah, Ma?"_

_"You've got a phone call, booby." _There was a rustle as she handed the phone to Kyle. _"Hello?"_

"Hey, Kyle-"

_"What?" _

Stan flinched. "What's up? What's with the silent treatment?"

_"Oh don't give me that crap,"_ came the hasty reply, _"You know damn well why."_ Stan shook his head, although Kyle couldn't see it.

"Not exactly, Kyle. I might have an idea, but, I'm not so sure."

_"You don't care what I think Stan. You don't care how I feel."_ Kyle's voice rose with his anger. _"I thought I was doing my part in the friendship. I come to you when I'm upset. I do all that crap for you, and when you start to like a girl you won't even tell me? Not even a 'hey Kyle, I really like Wendy'?"_

"Kyle-"

_"No Stan,"_ Kyle interrupted abruptly. _"I'm not done yet. Kenny's covered this already but we were worried about you. You've grown distant from everyone; you're pushing them away. And all because of a stupid, fucking girl!"_

Stan was holding his breath again, each word like a slap to the face that stung more with each blow. "Kyle," he tried again, "Listen-"

_"No, you listen, Stan. What the fuck could be so great about a girl that obviously has more interest in a manwhore like Kenny than you?_ _She's not the kind of girl you need, Stan. All she wants is a grope session. You obviously want something beyond that." _His words were becoming calmer, almost as if he was giving advice. _"I don't get why you're so fucking hung up over her. I thought you were smart enough to know when to move on when some sleazy tramp isn't into you."_ Stan's grip grew tighter. _"I just...can't process it. I don't know why, but I can't. I really wish there was some way to prove to you that you deserve better than her."_

"And why is that?" Stan asked, sarcasm and disbelief tainting each syllable.

_"Because," _Kyle sighed,_ "I love you."

* * *

_

Gah...it's soooo short! -smacks forehead- Oh well. I've got something up my sleeve. Well...kinda. o.O It just didn't fit with this chapter.


	6. Brotherly Love

**Author's Note:** Well, well, well, it certainly was interesting to see yuor guys' reactions. Hmmm. -ponders- I hope I haven't lost any readers because of my previous ending. -crosses fingers-

**Special Thanks to:** _Soneka the Hedgehog, Sparkus, Crow T R0bot, and Call Me Blue Streak...who will hopefully put me back on the c2 after this chapter. XD _

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing...never have, never will.

* * *

_I'm standing in your line  
I do - Hope you have the time  
I do - Pick a number to  
I do - Keep a date with you_

_I'll take advantage while  
You hang me out to dry  
But i can't see you everynight  
For free  
I do_

_I need an easy friend  
I do - With an ear to lend  
I do - Think you fit this shoe  
I do - Won't you have a clue  
**-About a Girl, Nirvana**_

* * *

All the color vanished from Stan's face. He gulped and found himself gasping for air. "W-what?" 

A light, entertained laugh was the response. _"Dude, you fell for that?"_ Stan regained the ability to breathe, but growled softly. _"Dude, Stan, you okay? I didn't scare you too much, did I?"_

"As a matter of fact," Stan snapped, "You did. I was beginning to question my sexuality and I was gonna toss and turn all night, wondering what my sexalicious Kyle was up to." Kyle coughed.

_"Anyway,"_ he said, gettting back on subject, _"That was to lighten the mood up a little. I really don't want to be mad at you. I **do** love you-"_

"Ky-"

_"Not like that, you sick perv. You're like a brother to me. Lord knows Ike doesn't qualify anymore."_ Stan snickered. Ike had become the definition of 'asshole.' He was quite the troublemaker, but somehow was always able to pin it on Kyle. _"And I don't want to lose you. Now, why did you call?"_

"To apologize."

_"For what?"_

"For treating you like shit."

_"Alright. Apology accepted. I'm coming over."_ There was a click followed by a dialtone. Stan hung up, made himself comfortable on the couch, and waited for his friend to show up. It was getting close to dinner, but he knew Sharon would make Kyle an extra plate.

It felt as if a dead weight had been lifted off his chest and he was able to breathe for the first time in his life. He should have known Kyle couldn't stay mad, for long at least. But he still felt like shit for mistreating him. It took Kyle about fifteen minutes to arrive there and when Stan opened the door he couldn't help but laugh at the flushed redhead waiting for him. "The bitch...wouldn't let...me take...the car," he explained through gasps. When he was younger he would be upset whenever someone would call his mom a bitch. Through the years, however, he had grown to accept the fact that he, Kyle Broflovski, was in fact a son of a bitch. Stan nodded knowingly and allowed his friend room to enter. "I'm sorry about this," Kyle apologized, plopping on the couch. "I just hate talking on the phone. It's so impersonal." He rested his feet on the coffee table in front of the couch, slouching almost dramatically. "Can I ask what's so great about Wendy?" He asked randomly. Stan shrugged a shoulder as he pondered the manliest way to explain it.

"She's smart, funny-"

Kyle held up an interjecting hand. "So basically all that cliche crap?" Stan nodded. "And you can see past her promiscuouity?" Another nod. Kyle hadn't experienced 'love' since Rebecca Cutswald in the third grade, and he wasn't sure if you could experience love at their age, but this could have been due to the fact he hadn't really experienced it. But he wasn't heartless, and he knew that if there was no love at the age of sixteen, Stan was as close to it as he could possibly be. "Alright," Kyle groaned, getting to his feet. "Let's go get you a bitch."

* * *

Kyle had led Stan to Kenny's house, much to Stan's grim dismay. He wasn't particularly ready to encounter the bastard who took 'his woman,' but Kyle insisted that they go talk to Kenny. He made the point that he would have to anyway. "First," Kyle had warned after knocking on the door, "Start off by apologizing." Kenny answered the door in his boxers, his sandy hair a complete mess. 

"Oh, hey Kyle," he glanced between the two. "And Stan."

Stan's face flushed, turning red with anger, which failed him to look like he wasn't angry. "Hey, Kenny." His voice was low and monotone, as if he was ashamed of something.

"What do you want?"

"I'm sorry," Stan mumbled, shuffling his feet nervously.

"Come again," Kenny said with a smirk, exchanging glances with Kyle. "I couldn't hear you. You were mumbling."

Stan looked up, almost angrily. "I said I was sorry. Happy now?"

"Quite happy, Marsh. You guys wanna come in?"

Kyle scanned over Kenny with a slight air of distaste. "You, uh, have company over?" He asked, gesturing towards the boy's boxers. Kenny laughed.

"Not anymore. I did, though. But she left." He eyed Stan wearily. "It was Wendy."

"I know," muttered Stan, looking at the ground once more.

"We didn't do anything, though!" Kenny added hastily, seeing his friend's reaction. "I stripped down after she left. I wanted to take a nap but it's fucking hot in my room." He looked at Stan with pleading eyes, which won the Marsh boy over. "Alright," he grumbled, stepping past Kenny and into the cramped house. "Sorry about the mess," Kenny apologized with a laugh. "I'm poor."

"We wouldn't have noticed," Kyle smiled, "If Cartman weren't kind enough to remind us every damn day."

"It's pretty pathetic that that fat lard is my best friend," Kenny said, disappearing into his room. "I guess I just know how to deal with him and handle him." Kyle and Stan sat on the saggy couch, but Kyle lept up with a yelp as a loose spring poked into his bottom. Kenny came out of his room, laughing, with a pair on jeans on and a t shirt in his hand. The sight of Kyle rubbing his own bottom made him giggle. "Y'know, Jew-boy," he said affectionately, "It's a surprise you don't have a chick, with that hot Jewish ass of yours and all."

"It's my Jewish red hair that scares them away," Kyle laughed, tugging at some loose curls. Kyle had surprised the other three by becoming almost metrosexual. It, of course, wasn't as dramatic as the time in fourth grade when Kyle was the only one not buying into the fad. Now Kyle spent countless hours trying to make his hair presentable, and then some, but to the poor boy's dismay his locks remained curly and unruly.

Throwing on the t shirt Kenny sat next to Stan on the couch. "Judging by Stanny's face over here I know you guys didn't decide to grace me with your presence for my own pleasure."

"You caught us," Kyle said, frowing and shaking his head, "We didn't."

Kenny looked at Stan without turning his head. "It's about Wendy, isn't it?" He took Stan's lack of response as a 'yes.' Sighing, he continued. "Look, Stan, we didn't do anything. I know you saw us walk off holding hands, but that was a little show. Well, more for her than for anything." He twiddled his thumbs. "Even though Wendy just dumped Craig today, she was coming to me for her new flavor sample. And to make Craig and 'someone else' jealous. Her words." He sighed, shaking his head. "That pissed me off, so I brought her here, letting her think we were gonna screw around. But I wouldn't do that to you, dude. Instead I explained to her how if she kept up what she was doing, she was going to turn out like me, and she wouldn't want that." He laughed lightly, gazing at the wall. His eyes told the other two that he was remembering something. "Boy did I gross her out. I'll spare you the details, but I mentioned STD's and all that jargon."

Stan starting laughing uncontrollably, his body shaking with said laughter. "Are you serious?" He croaked.

"As serious as Cartman is about pie and Cheesy Poofs," Kenny said, holding up his hand in a cub scout's gesture. "Scout's honor."

"Dammit, dude, you had me pissing my pants. I fucking hate you," Stan said jokingly. "What else happened?"

"Not much," Kenny replied nonchalently. "Told her a girl like her deserved better., so she better get her ass out of my house before someone knew she was here." Chuckling, he added, "God damn is she hot when she runs. I've never seen a chick move so fast in my life." He winced as Stan punched his arm. "Seriously dude, her tits were all over the place!" Another punch. "Alright, alright," he laughed, "I'll shut up now. But just let me say this; I think that 'someone else' she wanted to make jealous is you, Stanny-boy."

"Why would it be?" Stan questioned glumly.

"Well, why not?" Kyle interrupted. "By now she's gotta know you've got the hots for her. Chicks are so god damn weird, Stan, they do the dumbest things without any trace of a resonable excuse."

Sighing heavily, Stan closed his eyes and groaned. Why did girls have to be so difficult?

* * *

Stan went to school the next day feeling much better than he had the day before. Kenny and Kyle were no longer mad at him, and he was somewhat at rest knowing Kenny did not betray him. At the bus stop, Kyle and Cartman relayed their usual banter (which Kenny and Stan finally learned to ignore) until the bus arrived. They took their normal seats, Kyle and Stan in front of Kenny and Cartman, and the day already seemed to be going smoothly. 

The day kept up like this, until Stan made it into the notorious English class. It started out normally, with Kyle and Stan nagging on Mr. Decker and getting laughs from the class. Stan did notice, however, Wendy glancing over her shoulder and smiling at him more often than usual. Apparently she had gotten over her anger with him. Maybe she figured out he was just being defensive. In the middle of class, much to Stan's delighted surprise, she plopped a note on his desk. He opened it slowly, as if with caution, glancing up at Wendy's almost-mischeivious face. He then glanced at Kyle who wore an expression that said both 'uh oh' and 'way to go, slugger.' In Wendy's unmistakable, loopy handwriting, the note said:

_Stan,  
I just wanted to tell you that I'm not mad at you. At first I thought I was, but I was just shocked that you fought back. But I realized you were defending yourself and Kenny (Go figure, _Stan thought)_ and I'm sorry for over-reacting in front of you. Hey,I haven't really talked to you for a long time, what's going on? Do you hate me now? I hope not, I don't know what I would do if you did. Talk to me after class or something.  
-Wendy._

Stan arched a brow at the note. It was odd to say the least. He looked up at Wendy and nodded in response, saying that yes, indeed, he would meet her after class.

When he did, she offered him that smile that never failed to send the butterflies soaring, and waved. "Hi Stan."

"Uh, hi, Wendy," he said stupidly.

"So, you read the note. What's the answer?"

"To what?"

"You know, silly," She was so bubbly, but of course Stan either didn't notice it or was able to look past it. "Do you hate me?"

"No! God no! Why would I hate you?"

"Good," she said, giggling. "I don't know, we just haven't spoken in so long. I kinda miss you." His blue eyes widened. Was she hitting on him? Her gray eyes sparkled with delight at his reaction. "Have you missed me?"

"Yeah, I have," he admitted sheepishly.

"Well, how about we do something this Saturday? Like, a date?" She bit her lower lip hopefully, fidgeting from foot to foot. Stan choked with nervous laughter, causing Wendy to give him this look of embarrassed horror. "I- if you don't want to, that's okay."

Muttering 'shit' under his breath, he responded, "No, I do! I just- didn't expect this, that's all." He gave her a reasurring smile, which lit up hers.

"Great!" She cooed, giving him a hug, "Give me a call when you know where you're going to take me!"

Stan nodded in agreement, and walked off. He had that light, flittery feeling of walking on air.

The rest of the week seemed to sludge by slowly, each minute feeling like an hour. On Thursday he had called Wendy to tell her to dress up on Saturday, he was going to take her out to eat at the 'Silver Pheasant.' She had squealed with delight and hung up, leaving Stan with a giddy smile on his face.

* * *

"Ha, so let me get this straight, Wendy has more balls than you, Marsh, and she asked you out?" 

"Yeah," Stan said slowly, realizing he had admitted to Kenny he had smaller balls than a girl. Kenny cracked up, leaning on Cartman for support. "Ay!" He snapped, shoving Kenny off, "Don't get your poor germs on me!"

"Funny how things work," Kyle said, stepping twice on the left arrow. They were at the mall, hogging up the Dance, Dance Revolution from the other teens. "You're gawking over the chick and she asks you out. What kind of girl does that, anyway? Aw, _shit_!" He cursed, missing three repeated steps.

"Like we've been trying to tell you," Cartman offered hopefully, "Jews don't have rhythm."

"Ah, up yours," Kyle replied nonchalantly, leaping off the dance 'area.' Stan took his turn at the game as he answered questions.

"Where you takin' her?"

"The Silver Pheasant."

"When?"

"Tomorrow. Pickin' her up at six."

"You gonna bang her?"

"Shut up."

"I would bang her," Kenny chimed, receiving a punch in the arm from Kyle. "God dammit, you two are gonna give me fucking bruises!"

They left the mall and went to Stan's house, ambling down into the basement. They played their own (and free) video games without the distractions of other people. No more was said about Wendy, but when the boys left, Kenny slipped a few condoms into Stan's hand.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Alright...so I can get ANOTHER chapter up before Abby comes. XD Well this one hopefully doesn't have a cliffhanger so I don't leave you guys hanging _too _much. -snicker- And...and...I hope I didn't lose too many reviewers with Kyle's little joke. -prays even though she's not religious- Speaking of reviewers, I'd kindly appreciate it if any of my lovely lurkers would speak up and post a review! The more reviews I get, the moore 'oomph' I have to write. I know it seems like things are slowly going his way now, but I've got some more plans for Stan. -snickers again- Until later, mes amis. 


	7. Peanut Butter and Jelly

Disclaimer: Ugh...not this again.

Special thanks to: Call Me Blue Streak, Abby, Sparkus, Crow T R0bot, Soneka the Hedgehog, total misanthrope, Blinky69 and VCorrigan. :D

_Met a girl, thought she was grand  
fell in love, found out first hand_  
_went well for a week or two_  
_then it all came unglued_  
_in a trap trip I can't grip_  
_never thought I'd be the one who'd slip_  
_then I started to realize_  
_Iwas living one big lie_  
**_-She Hates Me, Puddle of Mudd

* * *

_**

He should have known the perfect date he had planned wasn't going to work; the manager of the 'Silver Pheasant' called Stan early Saturday morning, saying, "It's with our deepest apologies to inform you that we have unfortunatly overbooked our reservations, and we will have to cancel yours." Then the snooty man had hung up, leaving poor, bewildered Stan gawking and wanting to rip the phone chord right from the wall. He sighed through clenched teeth, pausing before dialing Wendy's number.

_"Hello?"_

The sound of her voice stirred the notorious butterflies, causing Stan to be eeringly quiet.

_"Hello?" _she repeated.

"Hey, Wendy," he said at last, smiling at the way her name rolled off his tongue.

_"Oo, hey Stan! What's up? I'm excited for our date!"_

"Yeah, about that," he said slowly, cautiously.

_"You're not calling it off, are you?"_ her panic-struck voice screeched.

"No, no, I'm not.But, uh, the people from the restaurant called. They overbooked and had to cancel our reservations."

_"Aw, that's too bad,"_ she said, the disappointment in her voice thick and sickening. _"So...what are we doing instead?"_

"I don't know," he admitted, "But I'll think of something. I'll pick you up at the same time, no need to dress up anymore, I guess."

_"Okay, Stan! I'll see you then! Bye!"_ Then she hung up.

* * *

Stan showed up at Wendy's at about six-thirty, wearing a nice red t shirt and jeans. He stood with his hands behind his back, rocking nervously from his heels to his toes. Beaming brightly when Wendy opened the door, he couldn't help but notice how much more beautiful she was when out of the shitty confines of the school. She wore a casual purple dress that rested right above her knees, and a small purple jacket. Her smooth, jet black hair was loose and flowing, and Stan found himself weak at the knees in her presence.

He brought his left hand from behind his back, revealing to Wendy a single red rose. She gasped with delight, throwing her arms around his neck and squealing. Stan shifted to allow the sudden weight adjustment and chuckled. He led her to his parents' car, opening the door for her and then closing it as she slunk in.

They arrived at Stark's Pond, much to Wendy's delight and dismay. "W-what are we doing here, Stan?" She tried to smile politely, but she knew it turned out disappointed.

"You'll see," Stan said simply, a charming sparkle in his eyes. "It's nothing big, but, it'll have to do." He was right; what he had planned wasn't big, but Bebe had given him the idea, and Bebe seemed to know what would charm Wendy. He got out of the car and went to the trunk, retrieving a large blanket and a basket. Wendy watched in the rear-view mirror, but she only saw the trunk of the car open. Stan shut it and grinned at her through his reflection in the mirror. "Table for two?" He said, holding up the blanket and basket. Wendy smiled softly. It wasn't extravegant, but it was sweet and that was enough for her.

He found a straight spot near the banks of the pond and rolled out the blanket. After setting the basket down, he went to open the door for Wendy. She slid out with such grace that Stan felt the familiar churn once more. He smiled softly and led her to the blanket, helping her get seated and then sitting in front of her. "You're quite the gentleman," she said, hidng a giggle behind her hand.

"Well, you are the lady," Stan said with a sarcastic smirk. Opening the picnic basket he revealed two sandwiches, two apples, and some other assorted foods. In one corner of the basket was Wendy's favorite desert, chocolate cupcakes. He handed her a sandwich, the disappointed look returning to her face. She unwrapped the palstic wrap from the sandwich and peeked inside to see what kind it was. A huge grin broke out on her face. "Peanut butter and jelly?" Stan nodded proudly.

"Grape Jelly. Remember the summer before third grade? I would always go over to your house and your mom would make us peanut butter and jelly sandwiches." Wendy giggled and sighed, scooting closer to Stan. "That's so...cute, Stan. I can't believe you remembered that." She was yet even closer. "Thanks for reminding me," she continued, her voice low and soft. They smiled at each other for a few minutes before eating their meal.

Stan and Wendy had talked for an hour or so, but he noticed she seemed to grow more impatient by the second. She was right against him by now, resting her head on his shoulder. Every now and then she'd look at him with those enticing gray eyes of her, holding a certain begging look in them. Finally Stan was aware of a her soft hand trailing up his arm. "This was really sweet, Stan," Wendy said softly, nustling against him once more. "But it's getting a little...boring. If you know what I mean." She snickered cutely, looking up at him and winking.

Stan shook his head slowly, as if he wasn't sure how to answer it. "Well, no, I don't. I don't think this is boring. I'm having a gret time talking to you."

"Yeah," she agreed breathlessly and with lack of emotion, "But that wore off for a while. I've got other plans now. A proper thank you, if you will." She grinned mischeiviously, her hand trailing down to his thigh. Flinching, Stan grabbed her hand.

"What are you doing?"

"I just told you. I'm thanking you." She glanced at him, an expression of annoyance on her face.

"Well, saying it willdo justfine," he sighed, looking at her nervously. He wasn't ready to 'fool around ' with her. Hell, it almost didn't feel like a date anymore.

"But," she whined, dropping her 'argument' after realizing she had nothing to say. After a few moments she spoke again. "Don't you want to have fun?"

"I was!"

"Well I wasn't Stan. Don't you realize how perfect it would be? I'm well aware of how you feel about me, why else would Kenny say so much shit to me about you? Why else would your cheeks turn that cute shade of red whenever I talk to you? And do you know how many girls oggle over you? You're like the hottest guy in school!"

Stan stared at her, his normally sparkling blue eyes now icy and cold. "You're shitting me."

Wendy mistook his anger for excitement and grinned, nodding. "No. I'm not."

"What the _fuck_?" He shouted, jumping to his feet and causing Wendy to fall over. "You just wanted to fuck around because it would look good? Dammit, Wendy, I thought you liked me!" He continued to shout swear words as he picked up the blanket and basket, and tossed them in the car and drove off, leaving Wendy alone and confused.

* * *

"Holy shit dude, that's fucking harsh." Kyle was sprawled out on his bed, staring at the tv with the remote in his hand. "I can't believe she did that. Well," he paused, debating whether or not he should say it, "Actually, I can. But didn't you straighten Wendy out, Kenny?"

"I thought I did," he said defensively, holding his hands up. "I guess the bitch got over it eventually. Maybe she hit her mother's liquor cabinet." Kenny glanced over at Stan, who was glaring at the screen. Once again he was in a foul mood, but he learned to control his anger.

"I thought she liked me," he stated again, fists clenching. "I can't believe I bought her bullshit."

"Yes, we heard that already, Romeo," Cartman spat, shoving more potato chips in his face. "You're such a fucking dildo, Stan." Ignoring the comment, Stan continued.

"I bet that's how she lures all those other guys," he said sludgingly, each word filled with more disgust than the first. "She acts like she cares about the guy and then fucks them over." He shook his head. "Obviously all the other guys don't care. But they seemed to have a little more than handjobs and suckfests in their relationships with her. I thought maybe I could get more of the minority, y'know?"

"Yeah," Kyle and Kenny agreed in unison.

"Listen Stan, you need to stop being such a chicken shit and talk to Wendy." They all looked up in shock at Cartman, who had offered some sort of advice.

"Why would I do that?"

"You like her, don't you?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Well," Cartman said matter-of-factly, "It seems to me it's the only plan you've got." Stan sighed and nodded slowly, but before he could agree Kenny spoke up.

"No, I've got another plan."

Stan rolled his eyes. "And what's that, Kenny?"

The notorious twinkle danced daringly in Kenny's eyes. "Well, Stanny-boy, you're going to make little miss Wendy jealous."


	8. Stan the Man

_You can't start a fire sitting 'round crying over a broken heart  
This gun's for hire  
Even if we're just dancing in the dark  
You can't start a fire worrying about your little world falling apart  
This gun's for hire  
Even if we're just dancing in the dark  
**- Dancing in the Dark, Bruce Springsteen**_

* * *

Stan really enjoyed the first few days of spring. The air seemed lighter, cooler, and there was a more distinguished feel in the atmosphere. The sun beat softly and comfortably down on the back of their necks, and the wind tussled their hair gently. It was all-in-all a beautiful day. They were at the Denver Zoo, spending the day causing wild animals grief and the zoo itself general havoc. Randy Marsh had some sort of meeting in Denver that Sunday, and had agreed to drop the boys off at the zoo. 

They all had their favorites they were eager to see. To be fair, everyone does, but after Stan admitted he wanted to see the wolves, and Kyle wanted to see the cheetahs, and Kenny wouldn't rest until he saw the lions, they were all shocked that Cartman wanted to see the koalas. "They have fuckin' awesome claws and a helluva temper," he had argued, but they all knew he liked their cute and cuddlyness.

Stan had been annoyed that Kenny hadn't explained to him how he would go about making Wendy jealous, but he knew it was something he wanted to do. He wanted Wendy to realize what she was missing, and she'd want him more than she had realized. He wanted to play her game; tease her and taunt her like he had no soul. Gazing out into the polar bear exhibit, he went over his own plans, pondering over what Kenny could possibly have up his sleeve. The boy always had odd plans, and he hoped this one wasn't so bizarre it would damage him in a way he knew only Kenny could manage.

Cartman was over at the seals and sea lions, barking loudly and obnoxiously at them. "Stupid things don't fucking move," he snapped, throwing his slushie down into the pit and nailing one in the head. Cartman laughed at his own cruel deed, and Kyle smacked him in the back of the head. "You bastard," he growled, "That could probably make the thing sick."

"Yeah, well Kyle, you and your Jew-ness makes me sick. So suck my fat one, dildo."

"C'mon ladies," Kenny said with a grin, throwing an arm around the shoulders of each boy. "Can't we play nice?" He rolled his eyes at Kyle's quick shout of 'no!' and took his turn with smacking Cartman in the back of the head. He danced excitedly towards the African section of the zoo, eager to see the king of the jungle. The other boys chased after him, not wanting to be separated and ready to move on to the other animals.

While Kyle and Cartman were busy arguing over whether zebras were black with white stripes or white with black stripes, Kenny pulled Stan aside to look at the lions. "See that, Stan? See how proud and majestic these things are?" Stan arched a brow, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He decided to humor the boy and nod. "That's how _you_ should be, Stan. You shouldn't let this chick cripple you. We've all said it before but I'll say it again; I don't get why you're so gung-ho over her, especially when she sends the picture that all she wants is physical pleasure. But anyways, watch these lions, Stan. Watch how not one of the females is leading the male lion on and then screwing him over."

Stan chuckled. "They aren't, because they can't."

"Right, okay. Well, I guess lions were the wrong example, Stan. Ha, I was probably just letting my inner lion-fag roar, y'know?"

"Why do you like them so much?"

"Why?" Kenny repeated, as if the question was barbaric, "Because they're the king of the savannah, and fuck wildly."

* * *

Stan gazed through the glass at the lone wolf who had decided to break loose from the den and peer through the glass at them. He had a creamy coat and a sturdy frame, and Stan smiled at the fact that Sparky would not hesitate to 'make love' with the larger canine. He became aware of Kenny's reflection suddenly appearing beside his, and closed his eyes. "What, Kenny?" 

"Maybe wolves are a better example," he said simply, bent on trying to make his point to Stan through the animal kingdom. "They're loyal, trustworthy, just like your average dog. They have a mate for life and remain loyal to that mate. And only the alphas can take up a mate and breed." He smacked Stan's back. "Be the alpha male, Stan. Show Wendy that you are capable of being trustworthy and loyal. Make her howl, Stanny. Make her howl long and hard." He snickered at the last line, thinking highly of himself for being able to slip something perverted in.

"Kenny, you're weird," Stan replied smartly, although he was pondering over what Kenny had just told him. "So you want me to make her jealous by being a wolf?"

Shaking his head, Kenny responded, "No. Not what I meant. I meant the whole wolf jargon to be how you should _act_. I mean, don't be some pussy-ass koala like Cartman. Make her jealous by _pretending _to take up another mate, and showing Wendy what she's missing out on."

"When'd you become so insightful?"

Kenny merely looked at the wolf, who in turn blinked and simply trotted away. "Look," Kenny pointed, "That wolf got away. Don't let yours do the same."

* * *

Kyle leaned over the railing, his eyes sparkling with delight as the cheetah paced back and forth, it's golden coat glistening in the soft spring sun. He ran a hand through his fiery curls and sat on the railing, continuing to gaze at the female over his shoulder. Stan slurped on his fountain drink and Cartman was eating some fried chicken, compliments of the food court. Kenny was currently in the bathroom, and the other three didn't care to know what he was doing. He returned with a stupid grin and a brand new hickey on his neck. They ignored it and continued to go about their business. 

"Hey Stan," he chirped, giggling. "I think you can start your plan a little early."

"What plan?"

"Guess who I passed on the way back from the bathroom?"

"Who?"

"Bebe."

"What?"

"Bebe."

"What do you mean?"

"Jesus Christ Stan, you're not too bright, are you?" Kenny quirped, rolling his eyes. "You're gonna go out with Bebe."

"WHAT?"

"You're gonna catch yourself a wolf, Stanny, by having a sheep in wolf's clothing." His brows furrowed as he realized he had butchered the saying, but otherwise dismissed it.

"I-I can't do that," Stan pointed out, knowing instantly the plan might crash and burn horribly. Everything that had happened so far concerning Wendy had left Stan hurting even more than begin with. He probably couldn't afford to go through with another screw-up. He knew that with each disappointment it was like a blow to the stomach, knocking the breath out of him and forcing him to keel over on the ground in one of the most vulnerable positions he could muster. He didn't know how many more blows it would take until he would just stop breathing. But how could he explain this to Kenny? The boy seemed so proud of himself, and Stan knew damn well that Kenny probably couldn't understand how he felt. Stan didn't know of the hours Kenny spent wondering how Stan felt and envying him, for the mere fact of feeling something beyond lust and a fiery churn in the groin.

"C'mon Stan," Kenny said, throwing his arm around the boy's shoulders. "Who knows? Maybe you'll even have fun with Bebe." He winked and laughed, and at that point Kyle had hopped off the railing and joined Stan by his side.

"Dude, Kenny, if he doesn't want to, he doesn't have to," he argued softly, looking at Kenny with quiet yet stern eyes. "It's up to him."

"Oh I know that," he responded with a wave of his hand. "But people are going to wonder if he's, y'know, _gay_, if he doesn't get out there and be public with a girl. Aw Hell, Stan, I don't mean to totally fucking _snog_ her in front of everyone, just kinda _hang out_. Like I said, you might have fun, or even, dare I say it, like her. Gasp." He grinned toothily and slapped Stan on the back. "Great Stan, knew ya would do it." He left Kyle and Stan in silence, their mouth's hanging open.

"I didn't say yes, did I, Kyle?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Ah. Fuck."

They became aware of Cartman's evil, maniacal laugh as they stood their in disbelief. "Haha, oh man, you guys gotta see this!" They turned slowly, almost afraid to see what he was doing, and witnessed him throwing rocks at the Galapagos turtle exhibit right beside the cheetahs. The pebbles and stones bounced off their shells, and they looked up at Kyle with seemingly-pleading eyes. A rock cracked one in the head, and it slowly and depressingly pulled it's head back into it's shell, hiding from the monster that was Eric Cartman.

"God dammit, dude," Kyle sighed through his teeth, "You are so going to Hell when you die." Cartman responded to this almost-daily remark by leaning in the exhibit as far as he could go, and smacking another turtle in the head with a stick.

"That's a bad turtle! _Bad _turtle!"

* * *

"Ow, Jesus-tap-dancing-Christ, is this really necessary, Kyle?" 

"I'm afraid so," Kyle responded grimly, filing Stan's nails raw. "I know you guys nag on me for being so clean and prim all the time, but your nails are just plan disgusting, and I doubt Wendy will be jealous of Bebe for going out with a guy whose nails give a potato farmer great competition."

Stan rolled his eyes at Kyle's remarks. He was right, they all did make fun of him for being almost metro, but Stan had to admit that Kyle looked nice all the time, and was utterly surprised he didn't have some kind of girl. They probably thought he was gay or something. Sighing, Stan allowed Kyle to have his way with his nails, until he felt yet another sharp pain on his finger. "God damn, are you ripping the nails off or something?" Kyle ignored him and continued onto the next hand.

"Oo, you're lookin' _hot_," Kenny said, appearing out of nowhere and sliding behind Stan. He put his hands on Stan's shoulders and massaged them, smirking and mustering laughter as he did so. "Oh, Stanny! I can not resist you any longer! Especially with such hot, bodacious fingernails! Take me! Take me right here and now, on this chair, with Kyle watching!"

Stan shrugged Kenny off and slapped him in the back of the head with his free hand. "Shut the fuck up, you loser," he said, obviously trying to hold his own laughter. Kyle was giggling, and plopped Stan's hand down. "All done," he beamed proudly, grinning widely from ear to ear. "Bebe's gonna want to hold onto you and never let go," he said, almost smugly. His facial features faltered for a brief second, but the whole situation was so bizarre it made him smile again. He couldn't believe he gave his best guy friend a manicure.

Stan brought his hands to his face and gazed at the nails. "Ugh, I feel so totally gay right now, it's not even funny. I'm not too sure about showing up on a date with feminine fingers. It's not...manly." He sighed and looked from Kyle to Kenny. "She better not mention them to me or to anyone, or I will kick both your asses."

Kenny plopped into the chair beside them, sprawled out with one leg over the back of the chair and one on the arm. "So where ya takin' her, Stanny? The Silver Pheasant?" He said the last words with a thick sarcasm and cruel jeer, only to receive several punches from Kyle.

"Uh, no. Just Roscoe's."

"Oh good, maybe she'll let you have some pussy-burger for dinner."

* * *

Stan was finally ready at five o' clock, wearing a gray shirt with black sleeves and another pair of jeans with holes in the knees. Sighing nervously he stood in front of the mirror, Kenny and Kyle on either side of him. Naturally Cartman could care less about what was going on, and decided he wanted to stay home that night and watch television. They both wore a proud expression on their faces as they scanned Stan over with satisfied grins. "Stanny-boy," Kenny said, slapping him on the back once more, "You look _hot_. When Wendy sees Bebe with this studmuffin, she'll regret her decision to use you." 

"But I don't want to use Bebe," Stan pleaded, looking at the floor. "Doing this is making me no better than Wendy."

"And yet," Kenny interjected, "You asked her out."

"No, dipshit," Kyle spoke up, "_You _asked Bebe out. Stan didn't even say yes, but the poor girl seemed so excited he couldn't tell her otherwise." He scowled, exchanging glances with Stan. Kenny ignored him. They had decided to go to Roscoe's as well. They needed to get out as well but also keep an eye on Stan, in case something went horribly and terribly wrong.

"Listen here, Stanny. You're about to enter a new stage in your life. You're going to discover that there is something beyond your so-called 'love' that you're feeling which torments you and puts you through Hell, and it's called fun. You're going to take Bebe out, you're going to have fun. You're going to make Wendy jealous and piss the fucking bitch off, and hopefully you'll realize that Wendy is the spawn of Satan and Saddam and like other girls instead. Girls who don't spit acid out of their vaginas." Kenny chuckled and handed Stan his watch. Resting a hand on Stan's shoulder, he gazed at their reflections, ignoring the obviously irritated Kyle. "See that guy right there? That mighty-fine lookin' guy? He can get any girl he wants. He can be the best he can be for that girl and make her happy. That's you, Stan. That's Stan the Man."

* * *

Stan arrived at Bebe's house promptly at five-thirty. She looked nice; she wasn't beautiful like Wendy or even some of the other girls at school, but she was pretty in her own average way and Stan, of course, didn't notice this. When Bebe answered the door her whole face lit up with excitement and eagerness and she grabbed Stan by the hand and raced to his dad's car, not noticing the bleak look on his face. 

"Hey, Stan," she said finally, once they got in the car and situated. "Thanks for taking me out. I haven't been out in forever now. I was beginning to think there was something wrong with me." She smiled hopefully at him.

"Oh Jesus Christ," Stan muttered into his hand as he drove towards Roscoe's, the new burger and hot dog joint. It was a good place for the teens to hang out lately, and Kenny told him Wendy was more than likely goingto be there. But now he didn't want to go through with it; Bebe probably really liked him now for asking her out, and all he was doing was using her.

She laughed nervously. "Y'know, I've always been a bit of a romantic, or even a sort of love doctor. Whenever someone had a problem, like you for instance, they'd come to me for advice. But I just haven't been out with a guy in so long I was beginning to doubt myself." She folded her hands across her lap and stared at them. "I- I really like you Stan. Not necessarily love-like, but, I don't know, there's just something about you. I know your date with Wendy didn't go well, and the second she told me what had happened I cursed her for treating someone like you that way. She's my best friend and I love her, but the way she's been acting has made me want to push her off a cliff. Pretty much all of the guys are assholes, but they don't really deserve her treatment. Especially you, because you are as far from an asshole as you could possibly be."

Stan sighed slowly, glancing out the window, then to his lap, then at her. "Bebe, that's not true. I'm pretty close to an asshole. I-"

Bebe held up a hand. "Stan, I know you only asked me out to get back at Wendy. And I'm glad you asked _me_ because I know there are plenty of other girls you could have asked. And it's an excuse for me to spend an evening with you." She laughed. "Listen to me, I sound like I like-like you, and I haven't used that phrase since grade school. Truth is Stan, I find some sort of intrigue in you, but really, I just want to help you get Wendy back." She threw her head back and laughed freely, almost evilly. It gave Stan chills and he found himself joining in on her laughter.

"Well, Bebe," he said, "It's good to see I have someone so close to Wendy on my side. Now it seems I have a fighting chance." He slowed down and pulled into a parking space, got out, opened her door, and offered her his hand, "Come, Bebe, let us fight for what we know is ours." Bebe giggled and took his hand, slinking out of the car slowly. She nodded.

"Damn straight, Stan. Stan the Man." She winked at him, noticing his bewildered face.

They went slowly into the Roscoe's, and unbeknownst to Stan, they were really entering a major battle that he would win.

* * *

Author's Note: Ah, that took too long. But Abby's gone now, so I can update more frequently. I'm thinking I'm going to have around twelve or thirteen chapters, and I'm not sure if there will be an epilogue or not. Doubt it. Well, I'm too lazy to list all of my wonderful reviewers (you all really keep me going and I love ya for that), so I shall thank you all as a majority. :D So this was a long chapter for me, I think, and I was going to keep going on until I decided I better continue at the pace I have been going at. -shrug- I'm losing my voice. From yelling at my sister. -le sigh- 


	9. Armageddon

**Author's Note: **Wow, for some odd reason the last chapter seemed to be the favorite...-raises eyebrow- Anywho...Thanks to my lovely reviewers, as always.

**Special Thanks To:** Sparkus,Dinky Doodle and Amelia...for the super long and/or super thoughtful reviews. Rock on! Abby, total misanthrope, Crow T R0bot, and Soneka the Hedgehog.

**Warning: **Uh, corny jokes, coarse language, retardation. :3

**Disclaimer:** I don't claim to own anything, except the cliché plot.

* * *

_So if you're lonely  
You know I'm here waiting for you  
I'm just a crosshair  
I'm just a shot away from you  
And if you leave here  
You leave me broken, shattered, I lie  
I'm just a crosshair  
I'm just a shot, then we can die_  
**_-Take Me Out, Franz Ferdinand

* * *

_**

They entered Roscoe's to be greeted by loud music and laughter, and teenagers and preteens chatting it up and causing a ruckus. Stan and Bebe slid into a booth and eyed everyone suspiciously, looking for one person; Wendy.

"Bingo," Bebe muttered, pointing through the people towards the other side of the building. Wendy was with Red, the dynamic trio being the dynamic duo due to Bebe's 'date.' Stan looked away when Wendy gazed up, and he noticed the surprise in her eyes. Giggling, Bebe leaned in and whispered, "She knows we're here. Now we just gotta play it up." Stan nodded knowingly and smiled.

"Hey, Bebe, thanks for doing this. I still don't get why but I really appreciate it."

"Like I told you, Stan, I'm a romantic. Besides, I want to put an end to this tension between you two."

"Tension?"

Laughter played in her brown eyes. "Oh Stan, ever since you left her at Stark's Pond she goes on about how _weird _she felt afterwards. I think you're getting under her skin." Stan dared to glance at Wendy, who wasn't making any attempt to hide the fact that she was staring them down. Shifting nervously, he looked at the table once more, causing the leather seats of the booth to creak as if he broke wind. Sheets of crimson blanketed his cheeks, turning darker as Bebe giggled once more.

"So, uh," Stan stuttered, hoping to get a conversation going. He figured they might as well be doing something, instead of pretending like they were doing something. "Why haven't you gone out with any guys lately? I see nothing wrong with you."

Bebe sighed, fingering a salt shaker in her hands. "I don't know. I, I haven't really been asked out by any guys. Besides," she paused, contemplating telling Stan, "I kinda like someone already, so I don't know what I would say if someone would even ask me out."

"Why don't you ask this guy out?"

"Oh, well, I doubt he likes me," laughing nervously, she continued, "When we were younger I think I got on his nerves a lot. I'm a , well, I'm a bit horomonal." Her eyes widened with the horror of what she had just admitted, as if it were taboo.

Laughing gently Stan replied, "What teenager isn't?"

"But I was _eight_, Stan. What eight year old was as horny as I was?"

"Kenny," he said, smirking. He rest a reasurring hand on hers. "Who is this guy?"

Blushing feverishly, she mumbled, "Kyle."

Stan laughed.

Continuing to blush, Bebe's eyes widened once more and she buried her face in her hands. "I knew I shouldn't have told you." Stan leaned across the table andrested a hand on her shoulder. "Dude, Bebe, I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing at the irony of it. You see, Kyle's got a similar situation."

Daring to look from behind her hands, she spoke, "And what's that?"

Slinking back into his seat, he sighed heavily. "Kyle's never had a girlfriend before. For quite some time, until recently, that is, I was the one with the actual dates and he'd be the third wheel. I, I've always beat myself up for it. I feel protective of him, because he's not as strong as most people. But in that sense, he's one of the strongest people I know." He blinked, realizing he was getting way off subject. "Of course he's pined over some girls, but he's never really got what a guy like him deserves. I know he can make someone happy, and," he paused once more, blinking again to disguise a mischeivious sheen playing in his eyes, "Who's to say that you don't deserve that from him?"

A different type of blush masked Bebe's face as she listened to Stan. "Wow, Stan, you're so sweet. But do you think he'll ever be interested in me?"

A shoulder rose and fell simply in reply. "Who knows?" He grinned. "Let's just see where the night leads us."

"What?"

He nodded behind Bebe. "Over there, by the juke box. It's Kenny, and, uh oh, Kyle." Bebe spun in her seat to see if Stan was serious, and much to her delight, he was.

"Damn, he looks hot."

"Uh...yeah...I suppose so," Stan replied awkwardly, glancing around. His eyes landed on Wendy, who was watching them through the side of her eyes. He noticed she seemed irritated, and for some reason the guilty feeling tugged at his innards. He really needed to learn how to control them. He looked back at Bebe and forced a smile. "Let's go talk to them, shall we?"

Bebe didn't waste any time in jumping to her feet, grabbing Stan's hand, and leading him quickly and violently towards the juke box. It was a wonder Stan didn't lose his head or a limb from dodging people and waitors.

"God damn Tweek," Kenny said, shoving the twitching boy away from the juke box. "The thing isn't that hard to operate."

"I can't push the buttons!"

"Lay off the drugs," Kyle said, laughing.

"Gah! I'm not on drugs! Who told you I was on drugs? Rumors! They're all rumors!" The poor boy's eye twitched, clamping shut and causing his head to cock to one side. After all these years, the wild-haired lad still hadn't learned to button his shirt properly, and was even more paranoid than he used to be.

"Hey guys," Stan said, still holding Bebe's hand and looking at the group. Kenny, Kyle and Cartman were hanging with Tweek and Butters, and Stan could see raven-haired Ike in the distance with some girls his age.

"Hey, Stan!" They all chimed, smiling and nodding at Stan and Bebe.

"Hi," Bebe replied, her eyes resting on Kyle. He blushed, and looked away.

"So my mom made me bring Ike," he spoke, trying to avoid the piercing eyes of the curly-haired girl. "She said I need to spend more time with him. She doesn't understand that he doesn't want to spend time with me anymore than I want to with him."

"Yeah, well, that's because your mom's a bitch," Cartman said, shoving a burger into his mouth. Surprised at the fact that Kyle didn't argue, and instead agreed, he added, "Retarded Jew."

"Shut up, turdpants," Kyle snapped, raising a brow as Bebe giggled. She had long since let go of Stan's hand and was seated between him and Kyle. Kyle looked at Stan with pleading eyes and Stan just shrugged.

"Well, fellas, what song should we put on?" Butters piped up, rubbing his knuckles nervously. "I wanna listen to Kenny Chesney."

"God dammit Butters, we're not listening to any faggy-assed country music!" Cartman jeered, throwing a fry at him.

"Yeah, you retard." Kyle added, rolling his green eyes. "Anything but that, please." So they settled on Matinee by Franz, and got situated in their seats. Peering over his shoulder Stan noticed Wendy was still watching them. Bebe leaned in and whispered.

"I don't know if she's gonna buy it anymore, I mean, look at me, I can't get my eyes off of Kyle! So, uh, here." She leaned on and pressed her lips on Stan's, his eyes widening and then closing with realization.

"Oh, _damn_!" Kenny shouted. "Look at that! Stan and Bebe getting it on! Ow _ow_!" The other boys, minus Kyle, laughed. Bebe pulled away and shot eyes of daggers at them.

"You guys are assholes, grow up already!" Stan nodded in agreement, glaring at Kenny. However a squeal got his attention and he turned to find Wendy glaring at the table, her face red and her hand clutching a napkin with such force it could have popped the head off of King Kong. Red looked at her with concern and put a hand on her arm, only to have it thrown off by Wendy. Bebe couldn't help but laugh and Stan pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, clamping his eyes shut.

"Oh Jesus Christ," He muttered, "Better hope she isn't too wounded." But he couldn't help but feel relieved, and in fact, proud. It was obvious that Kenny's plan was working and Wendy did seem to have Stan under her skin, but he didn't want her believing entirely that he felt for Bebe instead. He knew that Wendy was capable of pain worse than death; she was the kind of girl that always got what she wanted and she'd cause hell getting it. It was with this realization that Stan began to wonder what it was about Wendy that had him so entirely captivated that he would drop his whole lifestyle just to have a right relationship with her.

But his thoughts turned to the optimistic as he pondered this. There was the sort of 'x-factor' about her. He didn't know what it was, but whatever it was caused there to be something so mysterious, so enticing about her, that Stan wanted to get inside her head, and make a room for himself in there. She had an air about her that made her seem so regal and pristegious, and even a little bit elegant. Stan admired how she knew what she wanted and wouldn't stop until she acheived that goal. Perserverance could be a highly admirable tool. Then, of course, there was her intelligence. There was no doubting that Wendy wasn't some dumb broad. She was a broad, yes, but by no means a dumb one. He became aware of the fact that was he was brooding over wasn't a dinner-time-with-friends topic, and tried forcefully to let his mind wander to what the topic for discussion actually was.

"Stop it, you guys!" Tweek cried, as Kenny and Cartman continued to pass his hot dog right under his nose, but refused to let him grab a hold of it. "I want my hotdog! AUGH!" He screeched and never ceased to shake and vibrate. Kenny oftentimes called him the 'Human Vibrator.'

"Well gee, guys, why don't you give Tweek his hot dog? I- I'll give you my fries. Why, I already ate my hot dog but if I hadn't I would let you guys have it," Butters said, trying in his own miserable way to stand up for Tweek.

The fun was wearing off for Kenny despite of this, and he slunk back in his seat, replying, "Nah, it's okay, I'm done with making Tweek my bitch for now."

"Well screw you, you poor piece of crap, I'm taking those fries!" Cartman lunged forward, reaching for the plastic basket on Butters' plate.

"Cartman, you stupid fat asshole, give those back to Butters."

"But Stan, these are _mine_!"

"Butters paid for them, now give them the fuck back before I suckerpunch you."

"Oh hamburgers," Butters cursed softly, rubbing his knuckles together. "I-I don't wanna start no trouble."

"I'm not giving them back."

Growling, Stan grabbed the fries from Cartman and gave them back to Butters. "Well thanks Stan, gee. That was real nice what you did just now."

"Don't mention it, Butters," Stan replied absentmindedly, leaning back against the booth and locking eyes with Kyle. "You're being quiet, Kyle. What's up?" Kyle shook his head, but Stan knew it was Bebe. It had to be; he seemed fine and dandy until the two of them showed up. "C'mon, the Jew in you makes it hard to lie. I know something's up."

"Are you really that stupid, Stan?" Kyle snapped, his face fierce with a mixture of anoyance and regret. "Even if something was wrong, what makes you think I'd tell you in front of all the guys, and Bebe?"

"I know what's wrong," Cartman said smugly. "He's jealous of Bebe because she's with you tonight and he isn't. He wants your dick all for himself." Kenny joined in with his sniggers as he scarfed down what was left of his food.

"Or could it be that Kyle's jealous of Stan?" Kenny added in between mouthfuls,as if he were joking, but Stan and Kyle knew he wasn't; they understood how Kenny was able to read body language like a hawk.

"Oh guys, come on, you're acting like this is a big deal and it's not.. I'm just pissed I had to bring Ike, that's all." Kyle wore a scowl, one that told the other boys to lay off. "It's not the fucking Armageddon or something."

"Ah!" shrieked Tweek, "Armageddon! We're not prepared! We're gonna die!" He grabbed at his hair, pulling out a small clump of it. Kyle and Butters each put a caring hand on his shoulder to try and calm him down.

"Tweek, i-if you don't stop pulling at your hair," Butters stuttered, "Well, you're gonna go bald."

The night continued on like that, with Cartman nagging on someone, cruel jokes being said, and Tweek misunderstanding something and going into hysterics. Stan found that he was actually enjoying himself, and even forgetting about Wendy. That was, until she ambled over, swinging her hips and fluttering her eyelashes flirtatiously.

"Staaaaan," She said sweetly, "Do you mind if I talk to you in the parking lot for a minute?" She batted her lashes once more, offering an angelic smile only she could manage.

He gulped, his palms growing sweaty and his face hot. felt his stomach twist and turn in an agonizing flip flop, and he could tell his burger and fries might make a guest appearance. "Uh, yeah, sure." He glanced at everyone else apologetically. "I'll be right back, guys." He stood slowly, finding his legs weak and trembling, and followed Wendy outside.

"The cat's out of the bag," Bebe muttered.

"Oh God!" Tweek cried, clenching his teeth and pulling out yet another clump of hair.

* * *

**Author's Note:** 'Kay, so, I know not much happened in this chapter, but I just wanted to have a filler that showed how the kids interacted with each other...and I'm not sure where the Kyle/Bebe thing is going...I don't know if it's gonna be a subplot or anything. -shrug- Dunno. I'm not toohappy with this chapter at all, so please don't be too harsh.


	10. For the Butterflies

**Special Thanks:** _Abby, Sparkus, Soneka the Hedgehog, Crow t R0bot, californianwhohatescalifornia, _and _flores para los muetos._

**Warning: **Mushyness...more mush than in previous chapters.

_

* * *

_

_Yeah and when I roll with my head in the wind  
And I feel like the king of the  
Dead men wishin they had gotten together with you girl  
But you're a dirty little liar with a message of obsession to come_

_You got your head in the clouds and your world's upside down  
Get away from the life you're living  
Get away from the man that's stealing your life  
Get away from the drugs you're taking  
Get away from the film of sex in your life  
**-Dirty Little Thing, Velvet Revolver**_

* * *

Once outside, Wendy plopped down on one of the stony steps leading into the building. Burying her face in her hands she growled with frustration. "Have you become some little man-bitch? How could you move onto Bebe so quickly?" 

"What do you care?" Stan replied placantly, his hands buried deep in his pockets, staring out at the freshly risen moon.

Wendy gasped with shock at this response. "I do!"

"Why?"

"Be-because, I can't believe you'd move on to Bebe so quickly!"

"Just playing your game."

Wendy sighed heavily, glaring at her dainty feet and then clamping her eyes shut. "Stan- I'm sorry."

"Come again?"

"I'm _sorry!_" She shrieked, tears blurring her stormy-grey eyes. "I'm sorry I wanted to use you, I'm sorry I couldn't see the guy you are, I'm sorry for hurting you!" The tears were running freely now, causing her eyeliner and mascara to run and form exotic lines on her pale cheeks.

Stan continued to stare at the moon stupidly, blinking and fighting back his own tears; but his tears weren't of frustration, or anger, or even regret. No, they were the sweet, simple tears of joy. This confession, this apology, was not at all what Stan had in mind, but it certainly was better than what he was expecting. He turned slowly and got her to stand up, wrapping his arms around her in a warm embrace. He rested his head on the top of hers, and inhaled the sweet aroma of her shampoo.

She sllowed Stan to hold her for a few moments before pushing away from him. A hurt look danced across his features as she did so, but his heart melted at the sight of her soft crying. "No, Stan...I don't want your charity pity. I don't think you understand."

His lower lip fell open slightly. "Understand what, exactly?"

She bit her lower lip in thought, and wrapped her arms around herself in a hug. "I- I'm not so sure myself, Stan." She took a deep breath before continuing. "I don't know what's going on, Stan. I got so used to superficial, meaningless relationships, and they were hollow and unsatisfying. And, we, we stopped talking to each other shortly after our break up, and I hate to admit it but I almost forgot about you. That is, until you beat the shit out of Craig for pummeling Kenny." She let out a haut, nervous laugh. "And it pissed me off what Kenny did, what he _said_, but he was just trying to point to me that what I was doing to myself wasn't the best thing for me. And I was also pissed off when you came after Craig, but I realized shortly afterwards that it was only because you came after my boyfriend of the moment. So with that logic, why was I mad at Craig for defending himself against you?" She paused to recollect her thoughts. "Because it was just that. Because it was you."

At some point during this speech, Stan's eyes had lingered upon the sky once more, as if it were easier to take this all in by avoiding looking at Wendy. "Wendy-"

"I'm not done yet, Stan," She said hautily, holding a hand up as if she could physically stop him from speaking. "I realized something else after that fight. The only reason you came after Craig was because you were avenging your friend. No, avenging makes it sound evil. You were merely standing up for Kenny, protecting him, and I really admired that...that you would risk getting yourself hurt to defend your friend. I feel bitchy for this but that was what got me to notice you again, and I began to wonder if you were so protective of your friends, your _pals_, how would you treat your girlfriend?"

"Like I would treat my friends?"

"But better, I assume?"

"More than likely."

"Yes, you would, because I watched you and Bebe in there, and even though, I hope, that wasn't a real date, you treated her with the respect and honesty she deserves. I know you are the kind of guy to treat the one you love with that respect and-" her voice cracked, and she let that subject drop. "But anyways...when I saw Craig bullying you at school, I just lost it. I couldn't stand seeing him treat such a good person with such anger and brutality, so I dumped him." She continued to grow more and more awkward by the second, and at the mention of dumping a boyfriend, she stared at her shoes once more. "And then I wanted to go out with you, because I found myself noticing you more and more, your cute little quirks, like the way you blush everytime I, or any girl for that matter, talked to you, or the way your voice cracks when you're nervous. Needless to say I found myself experiencing a weird sort of excitement when you said we'd go out on a date, and what a wonderful date it started out to be." Her face lit up slightly as she reminisced on the beginning of the date, "It was the sweetest thing a guy had ever done for me, it was small and simple yet so wonderful in everyway. I never completely grasped the severity of your romanticism, and I bet that I probably never will be able to, but remembering something so small, like eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches when we were little, won me over. I fould myself completely absorbed in your every word, but then I began to grow nervous. Like I said, I got used to meaningless relationships...so I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what you wanted. And quickly those strange feelings, those butterflies, began to turn into lust and I- I couldn't help myself." The tears began to flow again, her shoulders shaking slightly with each sob. "When you left me there, with that expression on your face, I felt the strangest feeling I have ever felt. I felt extreme guilt and remorse, and something else that even to this very second I could not name. I couldn't stop thinking about you since that date, and it's driving me crazy. I-in a good way."

_This can't be happening,_ Stan thought, his face dumb and seemingly sour, _She can't be confessing her love for me, not naughty, promiscuous Wendy._

"And seeing you bring Bebe really got to me, Stan. It made me realize that you could get any girl you wanted. I was the lucky girl you wanted, but I refused to let myself be that girl. And I finally saw what I looked like, bringing random guys, or in your case, girls, in to the picture to either prove a point or release some tension. I want to change, Stan. You make me want to change. I want to change for you." Her cries came harder, but not louder, and her whole body shaked. She laid a hand on his shoulder, turning him around to face her, and pressed her trembling lips against his tightly pursed ones. She held them there as she was hit by another racking sob, but after a moment turned and ran for her car.

Stan stood there for a few minutes, staring off into space with a thoughtful expression. He turned and went inside, his large group of friends jumping at the site of his hollow expression, and the lack of Wendy's return. He simply walked past them and into the bathroom, where he vomited his heart up.

* * *

After hiding in the bathroom for about thirty minutes, Stan decided to make himself visible to the others once more. He wore a hollow, unsure look and his face was drained of all color. Small, puffy pink clouds formed around Stan's eyes from the strain of his previous activity. 

Bebe was currently pressed against Kyle, her arm around him and her head rested on his shoulder. She had one of Kyle's vivid curls wrapped around her finger, and she toyed with it absentmindedly. Kyle's cheeks were a brilliant shade of red, and his eyes were wide with fear and confusion, but he had never really been held by a girl before, and wasn't so sure how he should handle it. The other boys, minus Kenny, were confused by this behavior, because afterall she had shown up with Stan as his date. Tweek watched them with a quivering eye and when Stan showed up he let out a little yelp.

"I didn't touch your date!" He quirped, jerking around in his seat. "It was Kyle, all Kyle!"

"Tweek you stupid turd," Kyle snapped, his face now an unimaginable shade of red, his eyes watering with frustration. "Stan, I can explain."

Stan merely sat there, his face plain and expressionless until a small, stupid smile spread across his face. "It's okay, Kyle. I knew about this before." His head turned in Kyle's direction mechanically. "Way to go."

"So," Kenny said, wedging himself between Stan and Kyle, "What happened?"

"I think," Stan said, dropping his voice several pitches, "I'm not sure, but I _think_ Wendy just gave me the hugest confession of her life." Kenny's face lit up and he grabbed Stan's hand in a forced high-five.

"Alright, Stan! I knew you could do it! Where is she?"

"She ran off crying."

"Wait, what?"

"She gave me a huge speech, kissed me, and ran off before I could say anything," Stan sighed almost sadly, regretting not going after her. "It was...interesting."

"Just interesting?" Kenny asked, his brows furrowing with confusion. "Not wonderful or magical or all that woman shit?"

Stan shook his head, his hair bouncing, "It was interesting, and, yes,a little wonderful, but it was so mind-boggling I didn't have a chance to have an emotion."

Kenny rolled his eyes and responded, "What the crap? Judging by the way she asked you to go outside, with her fluttering her eyelashes and junk, we thought she was gonna beat the living shit out of you...or just try to rape you again."

Stan sighed. "No, what she did was far more confusing. I think I'm gonna go in a little bit, think things over and maybe give her a call or drop by her house."

"I think I wanna go home too!" Tweek shouted, fidgeting in his seat. "This is all too much for me! I don't know what's going on!"

"We-well maybe I should drive you home, Tweek," Butters piped, scratching the top of his head. "You could get in an accident or, or something."

"Butters you drive as slow as my damn grandma," Cartman cursed, returning with another basket of fries.

"I thought your grandma was dead," Butters questioned.

"That's my point, you stupid retard," he snapped, his eyes squinting shut in a typical Cartman-like fashion.

"Don't mind him, Butters," Stan said softly. "I think it's a good idea for you to drive Tweek home. Makes you a better person than-" He threw an accusing glance in Cartman's direction, "Some people."

"I never said I was a good person," Cartman replied matter-of-factly. "But I'm not a bad kid; I'm just bored."

"You are too a bad kid!" Butters shouted, pointing an angry finger at him. "Why, I remember when we were younger you pretended to be me and called my dad a pussy so he'd beat me!"

"Your parents beat you?" Tweek asked, surprisingly calm for his character.

"Well, yeah," Butters responded, rubbing his knuckles together. "I mean, no, not anymore. Sure they did when I was young, but I needed to learn to mind my manners!" His brows furrowed as he waved a scolding finger at no one in particular. "They were j-just disciplining me to make me a decent human being. Why, look at me now!" He spread his arms out and let that charming, child-like smile of his shine proudly.

"I don't wanna look," Cartman spat icily, his words thick with sarcasm and annoyance, "Because I'm afraid your flaring gay-ness will burn my eyes right out of their sockets."

Stan reclined, realizing he wouldn't be able to leave until Butters and Tweek did so. Sure, he could easily have left then, but he wanted to make sure they got out of there with as little Cartman wounds as possible. "C'mon Cartman, lighten up. Let them leave with their dignity, alright?" He knew any sort of resistance was gone unnoticed and was rather pointless, for Cartman would of course have some kind of remark.

"Maybe it's better they leave now," He said slowly, his eyes growing smaller with mischeif, "Everyone knows they're gay for each other, don't want them licking each other's lollipops in front of us."

"Geeze Cartman," Kenny said seriously, any trace of jest vanished from his voice, "You seem to be making a lot of blowjob references lately. Quite frankly, we should be afraid about you...afterall, you're a pretty powerful guy, and you might come after our vulnerable bodies." Cartman's face flushed with a mix of rage and humiliation at Kenny's remarks, and his mouth hung open slightly.

"God _Kenny_, I am seriously pissed off right now..."

"Go on guys," Stan dismissed with a wave of his hand, "I think it's best for you to leave now, before Cartman's ego swells back to it's normal size again." With this Butters and Tweek eagerly got up and started towards the doors.

"Hey guys," Cartman called after them, already having a huge ego boost, "Keep count and let me know how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop!" He sniggered defiantly until Kenny added, "Why? So you can know how many times to lick your mom's penis?"

The remainder of the group laughed roaringly as Cartman glared at the table, blushing once more. He clamped his eyes shut,and spoke quietly and sternly, "You guys, if you don't shut up now I'll kick you all in the nuts..."

"You wouldn't do that...you want them in perfect condition to suck 'em."

Cartman shot to his feet, knocking over stray chairs and random objects of the table, all landing in scattered heaps on the sticky yellow floor. "Fuck you, Kenny! Fuck you, Kyle! Fuck you, Stan! And fuck you, Bebe!" With each curse he pointed at the said person, his face contorted with so much rage they were temporarly paralyzed with fear. This quickly diminished as they watched his large figure run and waddle out of the building in a rage and they broke into quick fits of laughter again. They all knew it was perfectly clear that Cartman wasn't gay by the way they'd catch him looking at Wendy at times, or by the way he talked about some girls in his Health class, but it made it funnier to say he was.

"Hey Kyle."

They all turned at the sound of a child to find Ike standing there, soaking wet and drenched in water. His thin, black hair was plastered to his pale face and dropped off his eyelashes, falling either in puddles on the floor or clinging sweetly to his cheeks. His light blue t shirt had a large patch of dark blue where he had obviously been splashed with water and his child-like khakis wore thin lines of water. Kyle groaned.

"Jesus Ike, what the Hell did you do?"

"It was Flora!" He persisted innocently, his face wide with frustration. "The dirty bitch splashed her cup of water all over me because I said she was hot!"

Kyle looked past his younger brother to find a blonde girl with pigtails that was Ike's age, fuming with anger and glaring at Ike. "Oh God, I guess I better take you home then." He sighed through his teeth, slouching disappointedly and glancing apologetically at Bebe. "I'm so-"

A finger on his lips quieted him. "No, it's okay. Poor Red was left here all by herself when Wendy left. I should either go pay her some company or make sure Wendy wasn't her only ride so I can walk her home." Bebe glanced over her shoulder to find Red sitting by herself, staring at their table longingly.

"Don't worry about it, Bebe," Kenny said suddenly, staring at Red with a devious smile stretched across his handsome features. "I'll take care of Red." He then sauntered off to work his magic.

"Okay, so I guess I am alone now." Bebe frowned.

Stan coughed. "I can give you a ride home. I mean, you _are _my date."

Bebe nodded disappointedly. "Alright, but you aren't _really _my date," she added, looking at Kyle with a small, lustful smile. She ran her hand lightly on the back of Kyle's head, her fingers tracing down his neck. She leaned in and planted a firm kiss on Kyle's lips. He grunted, his eyes widening with shock, and slumped back in his seat as Bebe released him and went outside to wait for Stan. Kyle sat there, wide-eyed and staring out into space until Ike fidgeted and coughed nervously.

"Can we go now?"

"Wha...? Oh, uh yeah, we can..." Kyle stood slowly, a now small, twitching smile displaying itself on his face.

"I'll go ahead and get Bebe out of here," Stan said with a laugh, standing quickly and heading for the door, "That way she doesn't keep you any later than you need to be." Kyle nodded thankfully and leaned against the table, still in utter confusion at what had happened. He wore a bewildered and unbelieving expression that told others that this was something unexpected.

Ike rolled his small eyes. "I hope I don't act like you, you're being totally retarded, gaywad."

"Kick the baby," Kyle growled, still holding the time-honored tradition from when they were little.

Ike squealed. "Don't kick the baby!" The response was just an impulse now. There had been times when he used to insist that he wasn't a baby, but he eventually caved and found this remark more fitting. Kyle wrapped a hand around each of Ike's arms, turned him around, and kicked him right in his bottom.

* * *

Completely lost in bright pink, fluffy pillows, Wendy was sprawled out on top of her purple bed, staring up at the ceiling. The unemotional eyes of random teen heartthrobs stared back down at her, from posters littering every inch of her walls and ceiling, but those pictures didn't get her heart racing so much anymore. She held in her hand a crumpled photograph of her and Stan in the third or fourth grade, her arms around his neck in a loving embrace, and his face distorted and sickly looking, as if he were trying to keep his food down. However, his eyes held a loving and dear look in them, and Wendy knew he had been crazy for her. 

She also knew that he deserved so much better than her. There was no telling where her promiscuoity would lead her and leave him, and she knew she cared too much about him to hurt him. The shivering voice of Bryan Adams' 'Have You Ever Really Loved a Woman' kept her company, as she thought the situation over.

_...When you love a woman, you tell her that she's really wanted..._

She knew Stan wouldn't hesitate to tell her how he felt, and if he didn't actually come out and say the words, his eyes and loving gazes would let her know.

_...When you love a woman you tell her that she's the one..._

Stan would tell her everything she wanted to hear; he was the kind of guy who would do anything for the girl he loved, even if it meant he got hurt in the process.

_...'Cause she needs somebody to tell her that you'll always be together..._

But is that what she really wanted? They were only teenagers, she wasn't sure she wanted such a serious relationship. She wasn't lying when she told Stan she wanted to change, that he made her want to change, but was it particularly for him? She felt in her heart that in a big way it was for Stan, but how healthy could it be to be so completely devoted to one person that'd you'd change your entire way of living for them? They were at a young age, and she knew perfectly well that her horomones were almost in complete charge of her thoughts and actions, and wasn't sure just how much she could trust these overwhelming feelings she hadn't felt for years, but she decided that they probably weren't the most reliable things to depend on.

Several small taps at her window broke her focus and sparked her confusion. She sat on the edge of her bed before standing and peering outside.

Stan was in her front yard, tossing small rocks and pebbles at her window pane, wearing a goofy, excited grin. Throwing up the window she leaned out. "Stan! What the hell are you doing?"

"I came to see you, Wendy! You left in such a rush I didn't get to-"

"Alright, alright," she said hastily, "I'm coming down." She then shut the window and in a few minutes appeared out her front door, pulling her arms around her nervously. "What do you want?"

Stan silenced her with a kiss so fiery and spontaneous she felt her knees weakening, but she finally managed to grunt and pull away. "Stan," she said protestingly.

"Ssh..." he whispered, placing a finger on her lips. He reached in his pocket and pulled out something wrapped in a plastic bag. Wendy eyed it with interest, wondering what he was going to do with it. He opened it and pulled out something slightly large and bulky, but it was hard for Wendy to see what it was in the dark. He gingerly took her hand in his and slipped the object on her finger and kissed her hand. "It's grape. Your favorite." He grinned cutely, and brought her hand closer to her face so she could see what it was. It was a large, purple Ring Pop, grape flavored as Stan told her.

"I wanted to buy you something nice but unfortunately I'm broke."

She stared at the cheesy yet sweet gift for a moment before looking back at him with sad eyes. "Stan, thank you. I love ring pops."

"I know," he said proudly, nodding. He then put an arm around her waist and pulld her close to him, planting a small peck on her forehead. "Wendy, what you said tonight was utterly, and completely, amazing. I never thought that I'd hear those words from you, it was almost as if, as Kyle or Tweek would say, the Armageddon was fastly approaching." His voice was deep and husky as he gazed into her eyes. He was one of those people that believed the eyes were the windows to the soul, and he stared so intensely into hers as if he were reading every thought of whimsy of Wendy's soul."Those butterflies you mentioned, Wendy...those damn butterflies plague me every damn day and night, but it's the most amazing sickness I have ever felt."

Her eyes continued to grow sadder and sadder with every soft word spoken, until a single tear fell from her eyes and traced a dizzying line on her cheek.

"Wendy," he continued, grabbing both of her hands and bringing them to his chest, "I want you to be mine." He knew perfectly well that what he had said was so extremely cheesy, so extremely cliche, that he ran the risk of running her off, but he felt that his previous speech would make up for it.

"Oh Stan," she sobbed, "I- I can't."

The small, charming, lop-sided grin that made him famous among the girls quickly vanished. "What? What do you mean, you _can't_?"

She cried harder, her eyes growing sore from the excessive amount ofuse they had received that day. "Stan, you make me feel like a better person, like the person I know I should be. But, I just don't know. I don't know if I'm ready for this person yet. I mean, it was so sudden, and, and I," she found herself unable to form coherant sentences as Stan released her hands and took a step back.

"Wendy, I, I...Didn't we just confess to each other how we felt about each other? If I make you feel like a better person, wouldn't it make sense if-"

"No, Stan, no, please, I- I don't need this right now...Stan, I'm so sorry...just, not yet..."

"Wendy, _please_," He begged, his own tears littering his face as he stared at her with pleading and heartbroken eyes. "Please Wendy...do it for the butterflies."

* * *

**A/N: **This...this was...in one word...draining. I have no opinion aboot it and yeah...whoops. It's my longest chapterso I expect lots of reviews! 


	11. The Raven's Nevermore

**Author's Note:** I understand that one of you out there has a huge problem with me, and you know what? I find it hilarious. Absolutely hilarious. You think I'm so crippled by it, but I'm not.

* * *

It was as if his glass heart were broken into a million tiny pieces, leaving tiny shards scattered all over the ground where his fragile, soft-skinned feet could step on and be reminded of the sharp, piercing pain Wendy had caused him once more. 

Upon Wendy's emotional rejection, Stan had cursed, 'fucking bitch,' to Wendy's face and turned to race home with such a speed it would have put a racehorse to shame. This left Wendy alone in her front yard, on her knees and burrying her face shamefully in her trembling hands and breathing in between crippling sobs.

Stan stumbled into the house, greeted by his parents who were sitting on the couch watching a movie. "Hello Stanley," Sharon greeted. "How'd your date with Bebe go?"

"Just fucking peachy," Stan growled in response.

"You watch how you speak to your mother, Stanley," Randy warned, looking at Stan with a sharp eye. It was with this that he looked up and glared at his father, who had just noticed his son's bloodshot eyes. "Stan, are you high? Have you been chasing the dragon?"

Stan continued to glare at his father who was now standing in front of Stan, his face merely centimeters from his son's. He stared into Stan's eyes with a determined look on his face, searching for dialated pupils.

"Dad..."

"Alright," he said with satisfaction, standing to his full height and adjusting his pants. "You're clear."

"Stan, honey, are you alright?" Stan's mother asked with concern.

"I'm _fine_," he insisted, fidgeting nervously. "I'm going to go to bed. I'm tired."

"Stan, dear, are you sure you're alright?" His mother asked with much concern.

"I said I was _fine_!" He snapped from the top of the stairs, fists clenching at his sides with frustration. He stormed into his room, slamming the door behind him. He let out a cry of rage, his eyes watering up once more. The night's events had stored so much energy in Stan's body, so much rage, that he probably would have killed someone if he didn't let it out on his room.

Spinning around suddenly, he drove his fist into the wall, ignoring the searing pain coursing through his knuckles. He could feel his skin splitting, and the warm sensation of blood trickling down the soft flesh of his fingers. He merely grunted and threw another punch, causing his hand to go right through the paper-thin wall. He stood there for a moment, dumbstruck and breathing heavily, staring at the hole. He quickly regained his anger and kicked another wall, leaving dark black skidmarks and the paint peeled. He picked up his trashcan and flung it at the wall, paper and garbage flying across his room. Next he threw his random trophies he had earned over the years, seeming to forget how much he treasured them. He walked to the other side of the room, took his CDs in his hand and took turns chucking them at the door and walls.

Finally, after much upsetting and destorying, Stan threw himself on his bed, face down, and screamed into his pillow. He was well aware of the fact that his bloody knuckles were soaking his blue bedsheets, but he didn't care. He didn't care about a lot of things anymore. After he had his rounds of screaming and crying, he felt a large, firm hand on his shoulder. He rolled over onto his back to look into the face of his father, who wore a mix of anger and confusion on his face.

"Sta-Stan, you want to explain what is going on?"

"No," he said rudely, rolling to his side, away from his father.

"Stanley, you will tell me what you did to your room, not because you want to but because I am your father and I'm telling you to," Randy said firmly, waving a disciplining finger at his son. He put his hands on his hips, and then decided to sit on the edge of Stan's bed, realizing it was going to take a while for Stan to tell him. "You know, Stan, being as old as I am I've been through a lot of shit myself, so I probably can relate to what you're going through." His face was hollow, and even seemed exressionless, but there was more going on in the head of Randy Marsh than a passerby would think. "I've been through bad grades, bullying, girls, hell, I've even been caught masturbating by my mom-"

"Aw, Dad," Stan pleaded, clamping his eyes shut against unwanted mental images.

"Sorry son," Randy said with a slight laugh, obviously forgetting Stan seemed to be in deep emotional pain. He turned around to glance at Stan's back and placed a comforting, fatherly hand on Stan's feet. "Stan, why did you destroy your room?"

"Why did you leave me alone long enough to let me destroy it?"

Randy blinked. "Well I wouldn't interrupt you and piss you off even more. But don't think you're going to get out of trouble. What the hell is wrong, Stanley?"

"Alright," Stan groaned, closing his eyes, suddenly feeling very drowsy. "Wendy and I are in love but she doesn't want to be with me."

Once again Randy blinked, not expecting _that_ to come from his son. "Uh, well, it isn't love, Stan."

"Yeah it is."

"No...it isn't."

"Yeah, it _is_."

"No, Stan, see, if Wendy really loved you she'd pull that stick out of her ass. But, you know, why doesn't she want to, uh, be with you?"

"She says that even though I make her want to change she isn't ready for it," Stan mumbled, barely audible to his father. His eyelids drooped and he fought to keep them open.

"Well, then, son, she isn't worth it. If she is scared off by the way she feels, she isn't stable enough. You're a good kid, Stanley, I'd hate to see you too attatched to some broad who can't treat you right. "

"Mm," Stan replied simply, before his eyes fell shut and he drifted off to sleep. Randy sighed, shaking his head and running a hand through his graying hair. He pulled Stan's blanket over him and left the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

* * *

Wendy couldn't remember a time more awkward than the first day back to school. She'd pass Stan in the hallways, looking worn out and beaten. It was a site she couldn't stand to see, because she knew she was the one to cause him to be like this. She fought back tears all day. This was something new to Wendy; never before had something made her so extremely sad. She couldn't get the rugged Marsh boy with the cute quirks out of her head. She couldn't forget those heartbroken eyes staring back at her with disbelief as she broke his heart for the umpteenth time. She was a monster; an evil, vendictive monster. 

Sighing heavily and trying to muster up the courage, Wendy stepped timidly into English. Stan and Kyle were already there, talking as if nothing were wrong, but she could see that Stan's eyes were extemely bloodshot and pulled down by heavy bags. He seemed pale and his hair was even messier than usual. She slowly made her way to her seat, watching Stan for his reaction. His eyes flickered over to her and held onto her for a few seconds, but he didn't stop talking and quickly moved them to focus back onto Kyle. Kyle threw a glare at Wendy, and turned his back to her, blocking Stan from her vision.

The rest of the class went like this; awkward silences and shifty eyes, and Kyle trying his best to silently protect his friend. Needless to say Wendy was relieved when the bell sounded, releasing them from their self-made Hells. Stan and Kyle just stayed behind, allowing Wendy enough time to leave the room and quite possibly the school before getting up. Stan trudged slowly, dragging his feet beneath him.

"See ya later, dude," Kyle said, his face solemn. "Don't kill yourself or anything, alright?I think I shouldcome over later."

"You can't," Stan responded, "I'm grounded, since I pretty much upended my room." He laughed nervously and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Bye, Kyle," he said, and left the school. Out on the front steps sat the 'goth kids,' completely adorned in black and smoking cigarettes. Upon seeing Stan, the tall, curly-haired goth smiled sadistically.

"Hey look, it's that conformist, Raven," he pointed out in the monotone voice of his.

"Jah," they all agreed with recognition. Stan rolled his puffy eyes, trying his best to ignore them. They wore smirks, glaring him down with they eyes of the so-called 'tortured.' The goth who spoke took a drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke in Stan's face. "You're looking pretty tortured again," he mumbled, watching Stan, or 'Raven' with a weary eye. "Is your Disneyworld crumbling at your feet, leaving numbing scars all over your tortured body?"

"Uh...no," he replied slowly. "Listen guys, I really need to go-"

"I bet I know what it is," Henrietta, the girl goth, said, finally speaking. "I bet it's that nazi-cheerleader-bitch of his."

"Jah," the others chimed.

"Is she slicing your heart open with a dull, rusty knife again, Raven?"

Now that Stan had thought about it, that was exactly how it felt. He couldn't believe that the _goths_ had actually, and correctly, worded his pain. Then again, that's what they had done in the fourth grade, forcing Stan to join the lifestyle of pain and torture, instead of moving on and getting over. He simply nodded and turned on his heel, choosing to ignore the rest of what the others had to say.

He was home in about twenty minutes. When he stepped inside, the inviting warmth rushed at his face, causing them to flush greatly. The smell of cookies flooded his nostrils and he smiled warmly. He stepped into the kitchen and poured a glass of milk.

"Remember you're grounded, Stanley," his mother said, her hands on his hips. Stan jumped, being frightened by the sudden appearance of another.

"I know, Mom."

"You march right upstairs and do your homework an-"

"I _know_, Mom."

"And when you're done, you will get to work on that room of yours."

"Alright, alright," he said, pushing past her with the glass of milk and two chocolate chip cookies in his hand. He clambered up the steps and into his room, allowing his bookbag to slide awkwardly to the floor. Glancing around his room he sighed heavily. He had done major damage to it, and he had already picked up his CDs and trophies. Oh well, he didn't have to continue working on it until later. He ambled over to his computer desk, jiggling the mouse and making his screen saver come off. He scrolled down his buddy list and saw that no one was on, so he plopped on his bed to finish his cookies.

Just as he finished his glass of milk, the notorious sound of a creaking door sounded from his computer, followed by the bleep of someone IMing him. Judging by the big, orange font he could tell it was Kyle. Sighing he got out of his oh-so-comfortable bed and sat in his swivel chair at the desk.

_**Star of Kyle: **Hey, dude._

_**ManInMotionMarsh:** Hey. What's up?_

_**Star of Kyle:** Nm...you?_

_**ManInMotionMarsh:** I just got home...I woulda been home sooner byut those goth kids stopped me as soon as I stepped outside._

_**Star of Kyle:** Oh no. You're not going goth again, are you? Am I gonna have to sneak inside your house to find that you're worshipping the devil?_

_**ManInMotionMarsh:** No, dude, I'm not. And I never worshipped the devil, jesus christ._

_**Star of Kyle:** ok...um...how are u doing?_

_**ManInMotionMarsh:** What do you think?_

_**Star of Kyle:** I hope it's safe to assume the same as before._

_**ManInMotionMarsh:** Bingo._

_**Star of Kyle:**You're not making any accomplishments? Come on...there as to be SOME progress..._

_**ManInMotionMarsh:** If u can consider doing some thinking and figuring a few things out, then yes, there has been some progress._

_**Star of Kyle: **Good progress or bad progress...?_

_**ManInMotionMarsh:** Depends on how you look at it._

_**Star of Kyle: **Well I guess ur not gonna tell me what it is you've figured out, then?_

_**ManInMotionMarsh:** lol you ARE the smart one._

_**Star of Kyle:** Yeah so since you're not gonna fill me in I'm gonna go...ttyl_

_**ManInMotionMarsh: **Bye._

**_Star of Kyle signed off at 3:30:42 PM_**

Stan then put an away message up and got to work on his homework, but he just couldn't concentrate. Whenever he tried to focus on whether it was true or if it was false that Charles Dickens' father was arrested for not paying his taxes, his mind would switch over to Wendy and the other night. He had been so stupid, so naive to actually think that Wendy would put her way of living behind her and give a meaningful relationship with Stan a try. He should have known that she would have smashed his delicate heart once more, spitting on the remains.

She had done it so many times before. She had earned Stan's trust and hopes, only to have them shoved down his throat. She was the worst kind of tease, for most teases just got the males 'excited,' and would ignore their cries for loving, but Wendy was the kind who would play with your heart, and would ignore your cries for love. He stared down at his knuckles, which were starting to scab up, and he rubbed them together, causing a dull pain.

Stan felt his eyes watering up once more, but this time they weren't tears of pain, but tears of anger and hatred. He needed to be his own man. He needed to live only for himself.

She had hurt him for the last time.

* * *

Wendy threw herself onto her bed, sobbing loudly yet softly into her pillow. She slammed her fists on the bed on either side of her, trying to release tension and frustration. Her mascara and eyeliner ran onto her pillow, tainting the once beautiful pink and purple cotton sheet. She rolled to her side, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs in the fetal position. Burrying her face into her knees she continued to cry softly, but her sobs were no longer loud. 

Seeing Stan so upset, so emotionally crippled, she wasn't able to look in the mirror that day. She was afraid to look into the eyes of the monster she had become, fearing that maybe, she too, would become drawn in by it's seducing beauty, only to be left limbless and writhing in pain. Stan had seemed as if he were abused, like Randy had one too many beers and came home and took his aggression out on Stan. But she knew perfectly well it wasn't Randy who had hurt and abused Stan, it was Wendy, drunk off her own power and glory.

She mistreated Stan; she threw him around like an old rag doll that she had outgrown. In reality, she _did_ feel that she had outgrown him; him and their third grade relationship. But she didn't know how much he had grown up, how he had matured and developed and flourished into the young man she didn't know she needed.

She had made the biggest mistake of her life, and she knew what she had to do.

She slowly stood from her bed, ambling over to her mirror and wiping her face. She removed as much runny makeup as she could and tried to apply more, but she new she'd just cry it off some more. She trotted down the stairs, threw on her trademark purple coat, and ran off in the direction of Stan's house.

* * *

It was just so cliche, so _movie-like_, that Stan felt like he was in the middle of a teenage-chick-flick. 

Being grounded, Stan was unable to go out to eat with his parents. He decided he'd take the opportunity to recline on the couch and watch old reruns of Terrance and Phillip. He didn't care how old he was or how many times he ahd seen every episode, good ol' T and P were still hilarious.

Rain pattered softly against the house, trailing intricately against the glassy window. The rain poured harder by the minute, and Stan was anxiously awaiting a storm.

_"Say Terrance, would you check my ass for abnormalities?"_

_"Sure thing Terrance," _came the reply, followed by an inevitable fart. Stan chuckled until he heard a knock at the door. Groaning, he turned the television off and slowly rose to his feet. He shuffled over to the door, his eyes widening at the sight of Wendy standing there, completely drenched in the rain she so stupidly ran in.

"What the hell do _you_ want?" Stan spat, glaring at her with icy eyes.

She winced. "Can I come in?"

"No."

"Very well then," she mumbled, trying to regain her confidence. "Stan, I made the biggest mistake of my life," she choked, forcing back the tears that threatened to belittle her. "I-I..." she stuttered and paused, stumbling against Stan and placing her lips softly on Stan's, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

It was with that kiss that Stan realized he no longer loved Wendy.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Oh God...please don't kill me! -goes all Tweek knowing the reviewers are coming for her with pitchforks and torches- M'kay, several things I want to address. One thing I love about the show is Stan and Randy's relationship and interaction with each other, so of course I _had_ to put some sort of father-son talk in there, as short as it was. Second thing; the goths.The only one that actually has a name was Henrietta, so that's why I didn't specifically address the others. I know they don't really act like they do on the show but I don't care. So nyah. -sticks tongue out- I remember them calling him Raven in the episode 'Raisins,' so that's what they called him in here. And reasons for the lame-ass-ghetto screen names. The man in motion is a position in football, and Stan's a football player (although I didn't mention that in my story...so maybe he's just a fan), and Kyle's jewish so yeah...Star of Kyle. XD lmao I'm so pathetic. 

Next chapter is the last! -relieved sigh-


	12. Karma

**Author's Note:** So here it is, the final chapter. This is a short one. I keep meaning to go through and getting rid of lyrics...ugh. Damn ff. net's rules. I'd really appreciate it if my lurkers would now make themselves noticed and review.

**Disclaimer:** Ah...nothing. I own nothing.

* * *

Stan pulled away and glared at her. "You had your chance. No, you've had _several_ chances that you blew. I'm tired of wanting things I can't have. I'm tired of getting my hopes up only to have them come crumbling down around me. Face the facts, Wendy, there's nothing more."

Now she knew what it felt like to have her heart broken, but she had yet to experience the tragedy of having her heart broken every cursed day, every damn time she laid her eyes on the object of her adoration.

Stan could see this in her eyes and sighed. "Karma's a bitch," he said, slamming the door in her face.

She stood there staring at the door, her lips pursed tightly, turning a bright white. Her eyes grew warm with tears and she rubbed her eyes viciously on her arm, trying to rub her eyes raw as if she could remove everything she had seen and experienced recently. She turned around, watching the empty streets and sidewalks, her face growing red and her feet heavy. "FUCK!" she yelled, her face contorting into expressions she thought unimaginable.

Inside Stan flinched drastically, his stomach pummeling to his feet. He simply plopped on the couch and turned the volume up, and in minutes he was completely absorbed in Terrance and Phillip once more.

Wendy stood on Stan's front porch for five minutes, watching the pounding rain and dreading having to run home. She just wanted to sit on his steps, waiting for the guy she had torn apart over a matter of time, picking off limbs with every mistake.

Finally she picked up her feet and slowly trudged in the direction of Kyle's house. She needed to talk to Stan's best friend, it was as close as she could get to getting inside Stan's head. If Kyle didn't know what she could do to gain Stan's trust and love again, she didn't know of anyone else who could.

She hesitated before knocking on the aging door. Kyle answered, his usually calm and mellow face filled with shock. "Wendy? What are you doing here?"

"Hey Kyle," she said, avoiding his question. "Can I come in out of the rain?"

"Uh, I don't think my mom would appreciate you soaking the carpet-"

"Nonsense, Kyle!" came the voice of his mother from the kitchen. "Let the poor girl in, she'll catch a cold."

Kyle groaned and opened the door wide, allowing Wendy room for passage. She trudged in, water dripping and soaking the carpet.

"Hey hey hey! Look who it is!"

Wendy spun around to find Cartman and Kenny sitting on the couch. Kenny was grinning widely at her, while Cartman had the remote in his hand and didn't seem to give a crap about her presence. "Oh great," he muttered. "Kyle you need to close your door, you're getting hippies in the house."

"Shut up, Cartman!" Wendy snapped, glaring icily at him. "At least I can fit through the door!"

Kyle and Kenny unwillingly laughed as Cartman pouted.

"So toots," Kenny said, standing up and slinking towards Wendy, a mischevious grin plastered on his face. "I knew you couldn't resist me for much longer." He smirked and pressed himself against her. "Ooh, baby, I'm getting so hot..."

"Ew, gross!" Wendy shrieked, jumping to the side and causing Kenny to crash to the floor. He laughed and clambored to his knees.

"Please Wendy," he begged jokingly, his hands clasped together and held high. "I beg of you! Take the ring pop as a token of our undying love only so you can turn me down again! I love you!" He sniggered, only to have Kyle smack him in the back of his head.

"You asshole," he hissed, glaring at him and then at Wendy. "I know why you're here and you have a lot of nerve for it."

Kenny stopped laughing and stood at Kyle's side, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, bitch."

Wendy stared at them, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. She shut her mouth, her lips pursed tightly, and put her hands on her hips. "And what is that reason, _Kyle_?"

"You want to know how you can win Stan back."

She frowned. "Alright, yeah. But why won't you help me?"

"God damn hippie," Cartman cursed from his spot on the couch, never looking away from the televison."Are you really that stupid?"

"No, lardo," she responded. "I'm just...unsure."

"We won't help you because you hurt Stan," he snapped, his eyes still glued to the screen. Although he was vendictive and at times evil, he had grown to be more loyal than the others had expected. This was probably because of a near-death experience he had while riding horses with his family.

Wendy's mouth fell open once more. Why didn't she realize his friends would remain loyal and protective of him? She should have known they would have put up their 50-foot walls and refuse to let Wendy in. "Please," she begged softly. "I love him."

"Isn't that what you tell every guy you dong?" Kenny asked, plopping on the couch beside Eric.

"No," she replied firmly, clamping her hands into tight fists. "I really mean it. I can't get him out of my head. He's haunting. Completely haunting. I can't let myself forget how I treated him because those eyes, those wonderful yet sad eyes of his, won't let me. They stare back at me no matter where I'm looking or what I'm doing. If you guys had hearts you would tell me what I could do to let Stan know this."

"Did you tell Stan this?" Kyle asked, folding his arms across his chest.

She blinked. "I-I tried," she stuttered.

"And he didn't seem interested?"

"Kyle, please-"

"No, go, babe," Kenny answered for Kyle. He rolled his eyes at the site of tears rolling lazily across her cheeks once more. "Oh girlfriend please, you did this to yourself."

"_SHUT UP!_" She screeched, causing the boys to drop their facial expressions. Even Cartman stared at her.

"Wendy, seriously, you need to calm down," he said, his gaze returning to the television once more.

"Yeah," she replied, surprising them all once more by agreeing with him. "I do."

"Listen Wendy," said Kyle, in a much more friendly tone. "If you want to get on Stan's good side, then it's in your best interest to leave him alone. Forget about him. He's already forgetting about you."

Sighing sadly, Wendy shuffled her feet nervously. "So, it's over?"

" 'Fraid so," Kyle agreed, nodding softly. "Although there never really was anything to begin with."

She continued to stare at the floor, seeming to start to understand her situation. However, her expression quickly changed to anger as she looked up at them again. "You know what? I don't care! I get what I want...and I want to be happy! And I won't be happy until I'm in Stan's arms!"

"You can't start a fire sitting around crying over a broken heart," Kyle said with frustration. "Wendy, give it the fuck up. He smartened up and realized that although you love him _now_, you've caused him nothing but grief and pain and you'd probably do it again with good time. He figured it out thathe deserves better than you."

"But I can give him what he deserves! I can be the Wendy he fell in love with!"

"Jesus Christ," Cartman slurred. "You _are _stupid. The Wendy he fell in love with is the Wendy that hurt him. God dammit." He spoke as if the subject were an everyday thing, as if they were arguing over Cheesy Poofs and pancakes, and not Stan and Wendy.

"Wendy," Kyle tried once more, "Stan has moved on. He doesn't want you. You can't force him. Move...on...with...your...life!" Kenny sniggered at the slow speech, as if Wendy were a little kid or mentally retarded.

"I refuse to give in until you tell me-"

Kyle groaned, Kenny swore, and Cartman got to his feet. Kyle and Kenny laughed as Cartman picked up a kicking and screaming Wendy, seemingly invincible to her punches and kicks. He opened the door and set her down. "IT'S OVER!" He yelled, obviosuly frustrated with Wendy's perserverance.

Kenny pushed passed Cartman and grinned toothily. "Here's lookin' to you, kid," he said, giving her a two-fingered salute before slamming the door. She was growing rather tired of that particular ritual.

* * *

Stan was passed out on the couch, one leg thrown up on the back of the couch and an arm stretched behind his head. His mouth hung open, and he breathed in short, raspy breaths. He jumped and nearly fell off the couch when a ringing doorbell woke him up rather rudely. He grumbled, scratching his chest and shuffling to the door. He ruffled his hair before opening the door, only to groan loudly at the site of Wendy. He started to shut the door but she caught it quickly with a gloved hand, pushing herself inside hishouse. "Stan," she breathed with annoyance, "I was just picked up and thrown by Cartman, I think I deserve to be listened to." 

"Well," he said with annoyance, "Obviously there was a reason for Cartman to pick you up and throw you, but if I hear you out, will you leave me alone?"

"Yes," Wendy lied breathlessly.

Stan folded his sculpted arms across his chest, spreading his feet and glaring at her with a sleepy eye. "I really don't want to look at you right now but I'm listening."

She took a deep breath before continuing. "I'll just pick up where I left off, alright? I made the biggest mistake of my life. I never knew someone could make me into such a different person with such ease, and I was scared of the fact that I wasn't in charge for once. Everything I said in the parking lot of Roscoe's was true. I meant every god damned word of it. I fucking love you, Stan. I want to be with you. I want you to be happy."

Sighing, Stan started, "Wendy, if you really love me, if you really want me to be happy, you'd stop hurting me. You'd back off and leave me alone. Dont' you get it? You've _broken _me. You've broken me into a thousand tiny pieces and I need to put myself back together before I can allow myself to fall for someone so hard again. And I can tell you right now, Wendy, that someone sure as hell won't be you."

"Alright," She said slowly, her voice quivering. "But couldn't you give me a second chance, and allow me to help you put yourself back together?"

"No. Fuck off."

"Please," She begged once more, her voice rising.

"I said _no_. Now get the hell out of my hou-" His words were silenced as she stepped close against him, a finger trailing down his chest. She shoved him onto the couch and invited herself to sit on his lap, wrapping her legs around him and enveloping him in a deep, tender kiss. He was so completely mesmerized by her taste, by her captivating skill, he found himself unable to push her away. He felt her tongue brush against his lips and unwillingly parted them. Finally the idea of what was happening struck him and he was suddenly able to shove her off onto the floor. He shot to his feet and wiped his mouth. "God dammit, Wendy! I hate you so fucking much, why won't you understand that?"

"I- I don't understand how you could get over someone so quickly-"

"It's easy. Just have your heart broken over and over every fucking day. No, how about having your heart ripped out and EATEN by the one you love? Yeah, that might do it for you."

Wendy sobbed silently, yet no tears were harbored. "Stan, I want to be happy with you! I want that happy, fairty-tale ending to our story!"

Stan snorted, a haunting glint shining in his now emotionless eyes. "My dear Wendy," he said, his voice eeringly low and monotone, "Stories aren't meant to have happy endings. They're more realistic that way."

Wendy got to her feet slowly, shaking and quivering. "I-I'm sorry to have put you through all this, Stan. I'm so sorry." She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her jacket, blinked, and looked at Stan. "I guess I won't get my happy ending. I, I guess I got what I deserved."

Stan's gaze softened noticebly as he stepped toward her and placed a pity-kiss on her trembling lips. "For, for closure," He stuttered, trying to offer her a forgiving smile. They stared at each other for a long while before Wendy spoke again.

"I've got another confession to make," she whispered, slightly contorting the lyrics, "I'm your fool."And she grasped for the hands that would never touch her again.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Ze End. XD -dances- Yay I finally completed a fanfic! -dances some more- I really hope I didn't piss anyone off. I know a lot of you were rooting for a happy Stan-and-Wendy-walk-off-into-the-sunset-holding-hands ending...but...I agree wtih Stan on this one. No happy endings for me. >. I'm really sorry if I disappointed any of you.

Now, I'd like to thank my reviewers. And again, I'd like for my lurkers to review. I know you guys are there. xP

**Special thanks to:** _James, Soneka the Hedgehog, Dinky Doodle, Amelia, BlackNeonTears, Flores Para Les Meurtos, Call Me Blue Streak, Crow T R0bot, Total Misanthrope, Abby, VCorrigan, Bobby, Abby,_ and _Sparkus._ My apologies if I forget anyone...I really haven't forgotten you and I appreciate everything!

**Special, Special Thanks to CMBS, Crow T R0bot, total misanthrope, and Sparkus for being there from the very beginning.**

Special, Special thankses!

**Californianwhohatescalifornia **(or, I shoulda just typed, Bobby, eh? Well, screw that.): I was excited when you reviewed, too. Your reviews were so much fun to read because they somehow always managed to make me smile or laugh. You seemed to be into the story and that was a good thing. -hugs for Bobby-

**Zombie-Pip:** Yeah you didn't review or anything but I DONT CARE! I'm pretty honored you sat and read ten chapters in a row...and I was shocked to find out that it made you cry, even. I felt accomplished.

**Abby:** Thanks for everything...and for things that don't really need to go on here. XD Thank you for not laughing to my face while I wrote this or getting mad when I bugged you aboot it. XD

_and last but not least:_

**SPARKUS:** Ohmigawdgffngsklfng you're the best internet wife EVER. You were the first person to read and review it...and you stuck through to the very end giving me wonderful, amazing, thoughtful reviews! And...and...FANART! My first, ever! Fwee! -tacklehugglompmadpassionatebuttsecks- Thank you sososososossoosso much!

Alright...I have no idea what's next. I have a Butters one-shot I might do next...or I might do a Tweek story. But I also have the desire for a Cartman, Tweek, Craig, or Christophe fic. So I don't know. Oh, and to those people who read this only because it was a het story: I really hope it was more than that. And I intend on writing a slash sometime in the near future so if that isn't your cup of tea STEER CLEAR.

Ahem. Well, I'm gonna miss you all...until next time...

Much love,

_-Sandman Zane-_


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